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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25504741">The Blood of Beringia</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperJones/pseuds/JuniperJones'>JuniperJones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Wolfkin [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, M/M, Mentions of F/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Russian Mafia, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, mentions of mpreg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:54:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25504741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniperJones/pseuds/JuniperJones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean are ready to put the events of Wolfsbane behind them and step into the future together. But the ghosts of the past still haunt the Wolfkin and the greed and political ambitions of others will threaten to tear the couple apart. Will events set in motion millennia before their birth prevent Dean from ever finding acceptance within the Volkrod?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Wolfkin [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831642</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>188</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>223</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Strap in and settle down for a long one.  Don’t worry, we’ll get back to Cas and Dean soon enough 😉</p>
<p>I have tagged this ‘mentions of mpreg’ because, as you already know, Dean is pregnant.  MPREG is not a truly valid tag for this story, at least not with its usual implications.   Yes, Dean is male. Yes, Dean is pregnant.  Dean is, however, intersex, so his pregnancy does not really need any more mention than that of female pregnancy. He has perfectly normal female reproductive organs. The only oddity of Omega reproduction in this story is the length of gestation and the fact that a Wolfkin pregnancy can withstand almost any physical or psychological stress. These are wolves who play at being human.  They are pretty resilient . A pregnant Omega is still a bad-ass Omega.... probably more so . In fact, forget the ‘probably’ 😉</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="pref-1"></p><p>
  
</p>
<p class="pref-1"><br/>
On August 26th, 1978, black smoke poured out of the Sistine Chapel to signify John I had been elected Pope by a Papal Conclave of 111 cardinals who took two days and four ballots to reach a decision.  33 days later, due to the New Pope’s sudden death, the same 111 Cardinals were forced to take a further two days and eight ballots to elect his replacement.</p>
<p class="pref-2">The significance of which is only that Wolfkin were not the only species who wasted considerable time that particular year on ultimately pointless secret ballots and political machinations because of an unexpected death.</p>
<p class="pref-3">The death that triggered a conclave of the Wolfkin Верхо́вный Суд was that of the Tibetan Alpha Of All, Tsamchoe Drakpa, because his designated Alpha Heir, Gyalchok Drapka was betrothed to Dubravka Zuvić, the eldest Beta daughter of the Croatian Alpha of All.</p>
<p class="pref-4">The political implications of which were nothing to do with Human designated borders but due to the far more important issue of phylogenetics. Tibetan Wolves - Highland Wolves- were genetically Asian Wolves. Although in 1978 the country of Croatia was part of the USSR, and thus technically could have been considered territory of the Volkrod, Croatian Wolves were <em>European</em> Wolves. Genetically, the Asian Wolves and the European Wolves had been divergent for millennia.</p>
<p class="pref-5">The resultant issue was not one of genetic compatibility. All wolves shared the same species, the genome differences merely caused them to be different <em>breeds.</em> A mating would still bear fruit. Neither was it racism. Nobody objected to a crossbreed mating from any position of bigotry. It was, however, a political hot potato because of Nathaniel Campbell.</p>
<p class="pref-6">To unravel <em>that </em>political consideration requires a little more explanation.</p>
<p class="pref-7">Nathaniel Campbell was a Faelchu, a Celtic Wolfkin originating from Europe, and he had been responsible for the wholesale slaughter of all other ‘American’ Alphas.  It was generally true that <em>all</em> the North American Wolfkin affected by Campbell’s purge had also been of Faelchu origin. But not <em>completely.  </em>There had been small pockets of native Wolfkin, originating from New World Yellowstone Wolves. Those Native American Werekin had fared as badly as a result of the European invasion as the indigenous humans had.</p>
<p class="pref-8">The Верхо́вный Суд had not existed when the last known indigenous Alpha was destroyed by Campbell. There had been no international Alpha Council ready and able to intervene in the seventeenth century and so, except for the absorbing of lesser members of indigenous packs into the Faelchu causing Yellowstone DNA to be absorbed into the modern day American Packs, by 1978 not a single Werekin existed who bore more than a trace of native blood.</p>
<p class="pref-9">If it could even be truly called ‘native’ at all. The true North American wolves had died out 500,000 years earlier. The ‘indigenous’ wolves had crossed over the Beringian landbridge from Eurasia only 40,000 years earlier. Still, the Glacier known as the Laurentide Ice Sheet had then isolated the North American Wolves from the rest of their kin back in the Pleistocene era, and they, along with the Dire Wolves who shared their imprisonment, diverged through mutation and interbreeding to become subtly different enough to become a breed of their own.</p>
<p class="pref-10">So it is disingenuous to claim that an entire breed of Wolfkin had been eradicated purely because the Верхо́вный Суд had not existed to prevent it.  Saying so would presuppose that the Alpha Council <em>cared.</em></p>
<p class="pref-11">Which is where the politics plays its part.</p>
<p class="pref-12">The truth is that the Native American Wolfkin would have found no allies anywhere because of their unique phylogenetics. </p>
<p class="pref-13">Therefore, in 1978, the only <em>relevant </em>consideration as far as the Alpha Council was concerned was that the Faelchu, under Samuel Campbell, were ostensibly <em>European</em> Wolves.  </p>
<p class="pref-14">Which made America a useful bargaining tool.</p>
<p class="pref-15">There had been muttering within the Alpha Council for decades about the necessity to ‘handle’ the Campbell situation. The reason it had never resulted in action being taken was the question of <em>who</em> would be allowed to succeed the Faelchu. The Volkrod argument for taking America was convincing. They argued that it was their wolves, the Asian Wolves, who had the original claim since the fossil record clearly showed they had occupied both Siberia and the most Northern parts of the America continent until the Beringia Land Bridge had sunk during the Pleistocene. The Volkrod argued strongly that they, of all wolves, were the only ones with legitimate claim to both continents.</p>
<p class="pref-16">But the thought of allowing the Volkrod to take control of both Russia and North America concerned the other Wolfkin.</p>
<p class="pref-17">The Vrka, as Indian Wolves, were yet another different divergent strain. They had taken advantage of human politics to make claim on all British Territory except Scotland, and several former colonies of Great Britain including Australia. The idea of the Vrka taking control of North America was even more concerning than the Volkrod’s claim - and far less justifiable historically, although they argued that the long deceased Canadian packs, whilst genetically divergent, could be claimed to be part of their colonial heritage.</p>
<p class="pref-18">Gifting America to a European Pack was fraught with difficulties even separate from the potential offence that would be caused to the Volkrod <em>and </em>the Vrka. Primarily that only one of the European packs, the German Wolfin, was strong enough to mount a campaign against Campbell and the first and second World Wars, although conflicts born of human concerns, had left an unfortunate reluctance to encourage the Wolfin to act as an invading force.</p>
<p class="pref-19">So, just like the Papal Conclave, the original decision of the Wolfkin Alpha Council in 1978 was to appoint a mutually acceptable compromise. The Láng, the Chinese Lowland Wolves, who were genetically Asian Wolves, would be allowed to move their Triad operations into North America.</p>
<p class="pref-20">Again, like the Papal Conclave, that decision was swiftly overturned by a death. Not of the Chinese Alpha of All, but of the Tibetan one. The mating of Gyalchok Drapka to Dubravka Zuvić gifted the European Wolves access to Tibet, territory always previously considered part of the Volkrod’s Greater Domain. Karl Krushnic, Alpha Heir of the Volkrod, responded with extreme prejudice to the idea of his inheritance being carved up like a pie and threatened to respond by annexing Croatia back under direct Volkrod control in order to also keep Tibet.</p>
<p class="pref-21">Since doing so would inevitably have involved the slaughter of all Croatian Alphas and replacing them with Alphas bearing Asian Wolf genes, instead of resolving the Campbell situation, the Alpha Council teetered on the edge of creating a similarly despotic situation in Greater Russia.</p>
<p class="pref-22">And that was how the decision was made to grant the Krushnics the right to reclaim <em>their </em>land of North America. Which is why, two years later in 1980, the Krushnics invaded America and declared war on Samuel Campbell.</p>
<p class="pref-23">All of which only became germaine in 2015, five years before Castiel Krushnic, American Alpha of All was reunited with his Omega, Dean Winchester, when an international team of scientists published an article named ‘Worldwide patterns of genomic variation and admixture in gray wolves’ and threw a whole new interpretation on the phylogenetics of Wolves. The specific area of political concern for the Верхо́вный Суд was the identification of Beringian genomes in certain feral Canadian wolves. </p>
<p class="pref-24">Even so, the full <em>significance</em> of those genomes only became glaringly obvious in 2020 and that had nothing to do with the Omega named Dean Winchester. Or at least only tangentially. It was when a photograph taken of a different wolf, an <em>Alpha </em>wolf, was supplied to the council that the potential political ramifications of the article became evident.</p>
<p class="pref-25">Unlike the genetic divergence between Asian and European Wolves, the physical differences of the original Beringian wolves had been visibly obvious in both their size and the shape of their heads. A longer snout, a more ferocious bite and a body mass closer to that of a Dire Wolf than a Gray Wolf.</p>
<p class="pref-26">On the surface of it, the Beringian fossil record in Alaska - added to the evidence of Beringian genes in live American Wolfkin, was sincerely bad news for any Wolfkin of non Asian Wolf origin, since the Beringian Wolves had evolved from the same rootstock as the Volkrod. The proof of Beringian Blood in the United States set a stamp of approval on the Volkrod claim.</p>
<p class="pref-27">Yet it also opened... possibilities.</p>
<p class="pref-28">On the evening when Dean and Castiel visited Wolfsbane, the evening of the March Worm moon, Sam Winchester ran with the Poughkeepsie pack for the first time. His wolf-form was captured on the pack’s CCTV and that image was included in a report from Poughkeepsie to St Petersburg.</p>
<p class="pref-29">The photograph of the ‘Campbell Heir’ was not encrypted in the same way any mention of Dean always was. None of the Volkrod had any reason to conceal the reemergence of <em>Sam </em>Winchester.</p>
<p class="pref-30">So while Cas was ‘dying’ of a common cold, long before Dean asked Sobolev to contact Poughkeepsie, the existence of Sam Winchester had already been brought to the attention of the Alpha Council.  Since that news was <em>not </em>accompanied by the information that Dean Winchester - Omega - had also survived, all but one of the Council ignored the photograph as a slightly interesting irrelevance.</p>
<p class="pref-31">But one of the Alphas of All looked at the picture and found it <em>extremely </em>relevant.</p>
<p class="pref-32">The Campbell Heir was demonstrably Beringian.</p>
<p class="pref-32">Which meant the Winchester line had been Beringian.</p>
<p class="pref-33">And if Sam Winchester, the Campbell Heir, was of a <em>Beringian </em>bloodline, then his credentials to claim the position of American Alpha of All were stronger than those of Castiel Krushnic.</p>
<p class="pref-34">Not that it would do much good to him without an army capable of taking on the Volkrod.</p>
<p class="pref-35">Fergus Crowley, Scottish Alpha-of-All, was not in the position to provide that army. The days of Scottish rebels enacting <em>Braveheart</em> had been buried with William Wallace. Besides, the rest of the council wouldn’t stand for Celtic wolves returning to America.</p>
<p class="pref-36">But Crowley was a thinker, not a fighter.</p>
<p class="pref-37">He preferred the idea of a bloodless coup.</p>
<p class="pref-38">Sam Winchester had been <em>bitten</em> by Samuel Campbell. Whatever role he rose to, whatever title he obtained, Sam was intrinsically programmed to dance for a puppet master. Crowley was perfectly happy to be his Rasputin. He was happy to rule America from behind the scenes, using Sam as a figurehead. All he needed was a reason for Sam to be accepted as American Alpha of All by the Volkrod.</p>
<p class="pref-39">If Sam were to mate with... say... Anael Krushnic... if Sam impregnated that particular Beta and produced a Krushnic Alpha pup with Beringian Blood... well, surely the Volkrod would leap to position <em>that</em> pup as Alpha Heir.  </p>
<p class="pref-40">Crowley didn’t <em>know </em>Anael. He knew <em>of </em>her though. There was no love lost between Castiel and the sister who virtually dripped with pheremonal resentment of her Beta status. She was Neomin’s daughter through and through but, unlike her mother, did not have the status of being mated to an Alpha of All. She was stuck ‘playing Alpha’, nipping at the heels of Castiel’s sub-Alphas and totally dependent on her brother’s support and goodwill whenever she stepped out of line. </p>
<p class="pref-41">Anael had not mated. Even mating a sub-Alpha would lessen her status. As Castiel’s sister, as Alphakin, she had protections that would be lost if she mated with a lesser Alpha. If she did so, she would gain her mate’s status. A <em>lesser </em>status. Her only opportunity to emulate her mother’s power would be to mate with an Alpha-of-All.</p>
<p class="pref-42">An opportunity that Crowley had no doubt she would leap at.</p>
<p class="pref-43">He smiled and picked up his phone.</p>
<p class="pref-44"> </p>
<p class="pref-45"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="pref-1">On the fifth night of the waning Gibbous Moon, the black wolf learned he was no longer the head of the Poughkeepsie pack.</p><p class="pref-2">His status hadn’t changed. He was still the mighty American Alpha of All. During that <em>day </em>Cas had finally spoken with his brother and his bodyguards and all three had addressed him with full respect. Well, admittedly, Benny and Viktor had grumbled and griped about him ‘running away’ but had done so under their breaths at least. And Gabriel had called him a number of names including a ‘sly dog’ but, again, had made his irreverent comments with no less caution than usual, his mockery never slipping over the line between teasing brotherly fondness and disrespect.</p><p class="pref-3">It was only after the sun went down and the five wolves entered the woods together that it became clear that the white wolf was <em>boss. </em>It was the white wolf who led the pack, who chose the prey, who nominated who would hunt, who would track and who would merely watch from the shadows until the chosen Elk was brought down.</p><p class="pref-4">“You’re ill, remember,” Dean advised him unapologetically after they had finally returned to the cabin, showered, and sprawled in the living room in front of the wood burner. In the flickering firelight, Dean’s towel-dried hair was the color of burnished oak. “You can’t track with a bunged-up nose and you still sound like a blacksmith’s bellows when you run. It made sense to leave you out of it until the end.”</p><p class="pref-5">Cas couldn’t argue with any of that, since it was true. Plus he was counting himself lucky that his ‘illness’ had at least convinced the white wolf that a hot human shower was a more appropriate way to clean up blood than a swim in the frigid lake.  The Betas had been less lucky, something he was trying not to smirk about. A night sleeping on the veranda with wet hair would teach Benny to stop whining about the mere odd damp car seat. </p><p class="pref-6">Dean was missing his point though.</p><p class="pref-7">“The Betas all looked to you,” he said. “There was no dissension. Not one of them waited for me to approve your decisions. They didn’t even hesitate about following you into the lake.”</p><p class="pref-8">Dean shrugged, though his brow furrowed into a frown. “Like you said before, an Omega is beyond reproach.”</p><p class="pref-9">Cas shook his head in denial. “No, it’s not that,” he said. “The situation is as different as apples and oranges.  My babushka had every whim granted by the St Petersburg Betas, but they didn’t <em>follow </em>her<em>. </em>In a situation like a hunt, particularly of something as potentially dangerous as an Elk, she definitely would have been expected to only watch until the end. Honor would have been given by gifting her the heart of the beast after the pack slaughtered it, not by allowing her to make the kill.”</p><p class="pref-10">Dean thought about that, then grinned widely. Triumphantly. “They followed me like an Alpha,” he said proudly.</p><p class="pref-11">“They did,” Cas agreed, though his expression was more thoughtful. </p><p class="pref-12">Dean frowned again. “You pissed about that?”</p><p class="pref-13">“Definitely not. Confused though. None of them appear even slightly comfortable with you in human form, yet their wolves don’t share their trepidation.”</p><p class="pref-14">It was true. Although Dean’s scent had not caused any further ‘incidents’ that day, the three Betas were demonstrably uncomfortable with the Omega. The dichotomy had been most evident when, on returning to the cabin, the Betas had all refused the offer of a drink - or even a towel - and had instead immediately settled themselves to spend the rest of the night on the veranda.</p><p class="pref-15">Whilst that wasn’t totally unexpected of Benny and Viktor, Cas had never known  <em>Gabriel </em>to turn his nose up at a good Macallan.</p><p class="pref-16">“Yeah, well, <em>your</em> wolf’s smarter than you too,” Dean pointed out, with a smirk, as he reached to pour himself a glass.</p><p class="pref-17">“Um... should you...” Cas began.</p><p class="pref-18">“Fucked if I know,” Dean said, “But I figure my instincts would be screaming ‘no’ at me if it was gonna do any harm.”</p><p class="pref-19">Cas bit back his own instinct to protest. Dean’s body was his own. Regardless of any passengers. Just as he’d bitten back his protest at Dean choosing to hunt.  Realistically, if a pup could survive its mother transforming back and forth between physical forms, it was reasonable to assume it was considerably more resilient than either a Wolf or human fetus.</p><p class="pref-20">“Do you think they can already scent junior?” Dean asked.</p><p class="pref-21">“I doubt it,” Cas said. “It’s been less than a week. It’s more surprising that <em>you </em>can already scent it. I don’t think that’s usual for pregnant Betas, though it might be for Omegas. I know very little about Omega physiology.”</p><p class="pref-22">“Then maybe it just means that <em>all </em>wolves have an instinctive understanding of how an Omega <em>should</em> behave,” Dean suggested. “In which case, this whole thing might prove less problematic than we assumed. I mean, regardless of traditions and religious beliefs, you gotta assume people are going to listen to their own wolves.”</p><p class="pref-23">“You’d like to think so,” Castiel said dubiously. “But realistically the average Wolfkin spends most of their lives suppressing their wolves, considering them as being driven by primordial instincts that have no place in the modern world.”</p><p class="pref-24">”That’s pretty fucked up,” Dean decided.</p><p class="pref-25">“I’m beginning to believe you’re right,” Cas sighed. “But since you spoke of ‘junior’, am I to take it that the subject is now open for discussion?”</p><p class="pref-26">After dropping the ‘P’ bomb on him the previous evening, Dean had declared the subject out of bounds until he had given it more ‘thought’.</p><p class="pref-27">“I’m done sulking about my own stupidity,” Dean said.</p><p class="pref-28">Cas flinched, though he tried not to look hurt. It clearly didn’t work, since Dean sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “Look, I wasn’t planning on having a sproglet, okay? Possibly ever. Definitely not <em>now. </em>And it’s kinda hard to get my head around it too. Knowing I was intersex didn’t necessarily mean I was going to be fertile in <em>that </em>way and I guess I am a bit too ‘human’ not to see pregnancy as an assault on my masculinity. Makes me feel like a bit of a freak.”</p><p class="pref-29">Cas blinked in astonishment. “What bearing does pregnancy have on your sexual identity? You’re male. I’ve always known you to be male. You are simply a male capable of bearing pups. That makes you a miracle, not a ‘freak’.”</p><p class="pref-30">Dean shrugged. “That’s easy for a Wolfkin to say.”</p><p class="pref-31">“You also are Wolfkin. Evidently,” Cas pointed out dryly.</p><p class="pref-32">”Hmmmm,” Dean mumbled, his scent souring.</p><p class="pref-33">“What can I do? How can I help?” Cas asked, not understanding Dean’s concern but not dismissing it either. “Is this because you were raised outside of a pack?”</p><p class="pref-34">“I guess,” Dean said. “It’s not like I wasn’t always aware I was a werewolf. But it was just a monthly inconvenience more than anything else. I found it relatively effortless to live as a human. Certainly it was less complicated than trying to accept the limitations of being Pack.”</p><p class="pref-35">For Castiel, to whom Pack was <em>everything</em>, the comment was difficult to absorb. “Because of the ‘omega thing’?” he asked, using finger quotes.</p><p class="pref-36">“God, you’re such a dork,” Dean laughed, punching him lightly on the upper arm. “Yes, because of the ‘Omega thing’ but more, honestly, because of the Wolfkin ‘thing’. Sobolev’s pack gave me an urge to have a pack, but it’s still more of a fantasy than a reality to me. Kind of like how you can dream it might be cool to be famous, but the reality is Paparazzi and hangers-on and people wanting autographs when all you want is a quiet meal out or something. Being famous sounds great but the reality probably sucks.”</p><p class="pref-37">“You are afraid being in a pack will ‘suck’?”</p><p class="pref-38">”Being in your pack will,” Dean said, with brutal honesty. “At least initially, but I think the biggest suckage will be when your folks stick their nose in. I’m pretty sure they will disapprove of me.”</p><p class="pref-39">“As my mate and the mother of my pups...”</p><p class="pref-40">“Woah, time out,” Dean snapped. “Call me ‘mother’ again and this sproglet is definitely going to be an only pup because you’ll be in the doghouse so long you’ll forget what my fine ass even looks like.”</p><p class="pref-41">“Mother is not a gender-specific term,” Cas assured him. “Not even under human laws. Transgender males who give birth are legally ‘mothers’.”</p><p class="pref-42">“I don’t care,” Dean announced, motioning the zipping of his lips. “Don’t say it again.”</p><p class="pref-43">“I will endeavor not to,” Cas agreed. “But back to my initial point, you are not... unhappy... with this turn of events?” he asked cautiously.</p><p class="pref-44">“I’m not throwing a parade,” Dean admitted. “But it is what it is. I will never let our kid believe they are unwelcome, regardless of their sex or designation.”</p><p class="pref-45">“It is almost a certainty they will be either Alpha or Omega. The fact we are both so obviously biologically compatible is highly suggestive our combined genes are unlikely to produce Beta offspring.“</p><p class="pref-46">“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, um, how long until it pops out?”</p><p class="pref-47">“The gestation period of a Wolfkin is slightly under twelve months.”</p><p class="pref-48">“The fuck?”</p><p class="pref-49">“A Wolfkin is a complex organism. Far more complex than a mere human. It makes sense that the gestation time is approximately that of a human and a wolf combined.”</p><p class="pref-50">“I’m gonna be pregnant for a whole fucking <em>year?”</em></p><p class="pref-51">“My understanding is it will only become evident in the final trimester,” Cas assured him. Most Mo... Wolfkin choose to spend the final months of their pregnancy in Wolf form. Particularly in the case of multiple births.”</p><p class="pref-52">“Multiple births?” Dean yelped. “I’m not having a damned litter.”</p><p class="pref-53">Cas chuckled. “I’m teasing. I honestly can’t recall the last time a Wolfkin even had twins. The Wolfkin adapted away from multiple births after child-death rates plummeted. Our primordial ancestors used to birth a half dozen pups at a time only because the majority failed to reach maturity. Wolfkin who go feral struggle to survive as wild wolves for that very reason. It takes several generations before the feral wolves regain the ability to maintain a sustainable birth rate.”</p><p class="pref-54">“Then let’s hope my reversion to an older state of Omega doesn’t translate into an older form of reproduction,” Dean snarled. “Because if it turns out there’s more than one sproglet in here,” he said, gesturing at his belly, “I’ll castrate you myself.”</p><p class="pref-55">Cas swallowed heavily at the absolute <em>promise </em>in Dean’s voice.</p><p class="pref-56">Still, he wasn’t an Alpha for nothing.</p><p class="pref-57">Resiliance was woven into his DNA.</p><p class="pref-58">“Know the best thing about you being pregnant?” he asked.</p><p class="pref-59">Dean narrowed his eyes and glowered. “What?” he demanded gruffly.</p><p class="pref-60">“Bit late to close the stable door,” Cas beamed. “So we might as well carry on.”</p><p class="pref-61">“That’s what translates in your head as a seduction line?”</p><p class="pref-62">“Depends. Is it working?” Cas asked hopefully. Then faked a sad cough and sniffle. “Because I’m barely over my life-threatening pneumonia. I really think I should be in bed.”</p><p class="pref-63"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="pref-1">For all Anael Krushnic battered constantly at the glass ceiling of her designation, she still understood the need to navigate carefully within Wolfkin protocols.  As Alphakin, she was ostensibly more important (if somewhat less personally powerful) than a Sub-Alpha. As a Bratva Avtoritet, she had a level of authority that gave her the right to visit the NY brownstone with her retinue; there was no requirement for her to seek specific permission for <em>that</em> visit. Accommodation for herself and her four Beta boyeviks was provided without question within the New York City Pack House.</p><p class="pref-2">And the luxurious suite provided for her own use was undoubtedly commensurate with her status as a Krushnic. She had no grounds to complain about the hospitality of the Poughkeepsie pack.</p><p class="pref-3">Except she had <em>every </em>justification to feel slighted.</p><p class="pref-4">To visit Poughkeepsie itself without invitation proved <em>far</em> more problematic. Anael was Alphakin but she was not <em>pack. </em>She had no more automatic right to enter the actual Poughkeepsie packlands than any sub-Alpha. </p><p class="pref-5">Advised that neither Castiel nor Gabriel were currently in residence to proffer that invitation, she was forced to make a formal request to Castiel’s Second Beta, Hester, for permission to visit the Poughkeepsie estate. </p><p class="pref-6">It was refused.</p><p class="pref-7">One might imagine a fellow female Beta might have feelings of fellowship for Anna’s invidious position. Anyone believing so had not met Hester. Anna privately believed the blonde wolf was probably warming her brother’s bed. She couldn’t imagine any other reason he would tolerate her jumped-up attitude.</p><p class="pref-8">“I am Krushnic and Poughkeepsie is my mother’s гнездо. You do not have the right to refuse entrance to the daughter of my mother.”</p><p class="pref-9">It was true. No matter that Neomin had resided in St Petersburg for years and Castiel was now the American Alpha of All, Karl’s abdication of America did not remove Neomin’s personal rights to Poughkeepsie. The ownership of a гнездо was not relinquished simply by lack of occupation.</p><p class="pref-10">”Then ask <em>her</em> for permission to enter,” Hester barked snidely, and hung up.</p><p class="pref-11">Cheeky bitch.</p><p class="pref-12">Though the comment was enough to drive Anael to pick up the phone and call her mother for the first time in several months.</p><p class="pref-13">She had a carefully rehearsed bullshit reason ready to explain her reason for wanting to visit Poughkeepsie. There was no way in hell she was going to tell Neomin that she wanted to meet with Sam Winchester.  She had no doubt the St Petersburg Wolves were already well aware that the Campbell Heir had survived. If Crowley knew of him, then her parents did too.  She had no intention of showing her hand too soon. Although, since Castiel would never produce offspring of his own, she was surprised her parents hadn’t already been in contact to advise her the Campbell Heir had survived. Surely they themselves could see what was so obvious to her. Anael would have thought the opportunity Winchester offered would be clear to her parents.</p><p class="pref-14">Anael, like the rest of her family, had always considered Castiel’s wolf to be insane.  Undoubtedly driven that way by Campbell’s torture. Unlike most of her family, Anael had never felt any sense of pity over the fact Castiel’s Wolf had mourned an imaginary mate, leaving her Alpha brother effectively castrated. All she had ever seen was opportunity.  Unless or until one of her Beta brothers managed to produce an Alpha pup first, she was still in the running for power herself. Sure, she could have simply mated the first available sub-Alpha, prayed for an Alpha pup of her own and accepted the chance that eventually she would gain status as the <em>mother</em> of the next Alpha of All.</p><p class="pref-15">But that was a crapshoot.  </p><p class="pref-16">Unless she picked <em>exactly </em>the right sub-Alpha, she might have produced nothing but Beta pups and would have been left languishing under the control of a sub-Alpha’s bite for nothing.</p><p class="pref-17">Dean might have been surprised to learn that Anael felt as intolerably trapped by the limits of her designation as he did.</p><p class="pref-18">Crowley’s phone call had opened a whole <em>world </em>of possibilities.  Worst case scenario, a mating with Sam Winchester would almost definitely produce Alpha offspring - offering Anael power in twenty years or so.  Best case scenario? The Volkrod might be persuaded to transfer power to the sire of the proposed Alpha Heir.  Castiel was an evolutionary dead-end for the Krushnics and the sooner they accepted that, the better for everyone.</p><p class="pref-19">Anael never had the opportunity to spin her lies to her mother.</p><p class="pref-20">Neomin seized control of the conversation immediately. After several minutes of berating her daughter for not remaining in contact, the Krushnic Matriarch took huge pleasure in advising Anael of the existence of <em>Gan</em> Winchester. Omega. Castiel’s <em>mate.</em></p><p class="pref-21">Anael literally staggered at the news. It was all she could do to hold on to the phone as she stumbled towards a chair and sat down. An <em>Omega.</em></p><p class="pref-22">Awe warred with fury.</p><p class="pref-23">She was Wolfkin. It was impossible to meet the knowledge of a living American Omega with anything other than near-religious reverence and wonder.  Yet still there was fury. Dark and invidious poison that curled through her whole being.</p><p class="pref-24">Gan Winchester, simply by existing, had destroyed all of her fledgling plans for personal advancement.</p><p class="pref-25">Castiel was no longer a castrated evolutionary dead end.  He, with an Omega mate, would be undefeatable. Always assuming Castiel locked the Omega down, something Neomin was concerned might not happen.  Anael dismissed that immediately. For all Castiel was a little... peculiar... he was a seriously good looking man <em>and </em>the current Alpha of All. <em>She </em>wouldn’t hesitate, so why would this Gan be any different?</p><p class="pref-26">If Crowley had been in the room with her, she would have stabbed him, then and there, for building her hopes up only for them to be so cruelly dashed.</p><p class="pref-27">Crowley, the smug stupid Scottish spider who was a damned evolutionary dead-end himself. He had gained power only by mating his own <em>mother. </em>And Rowena, though still reputedly as beautiful as all Omegas were, was well past childbearing age. Crowley had no heir.</p><p class="pref-28">Crowley had no heir.</p><p class="pref-29">And it hit her, suddenly, that the Campbells were Faelchu. Of Irish Celtic origin but everyone knew the Irish Celts had originated in <em>Scotland.</em></p><p class="pref-30">Forget Sam Winchester’s Beringian blood... what about his <em>Celtic </em>blood?</p><p class="pref-31">Anael had never envisaged herself as <em>Queen </em>of Scotland. It sure as hell was less enticing than becoming <em>Queen </em>of America.  But it sure as hell was better than nothing.</p><p class="pref-32">Sam Winchester remained a prize worth winning.</p><p class="pref-33">Best case scenario she gained America. Worst, she convinced the Volkrod to support Sam in the invasion of Scotland.</p><p class="pref-34">Either way, Anael won.</p><p class="pref-35">Hester, the petty bitch, did not bother forewarning the Poughkeepsie Guardhouse of Anael’s imminent arrival. She was forced to wait at the front gate for over half-an-hour while the Pok guards checked her bonafides, double-checked with St Petersburg that Neomin <em>had </em>granted her permission to enter, and stripped both herself and her car in a thorough check for weapons.</p><p class="pref-36">”Who the hell would ever enter another’s Packlands armed?” she demanded furiously, hands on her hips, eyes flashing in temper.</p><p class="pref-37">The Pok all snickered, as though sharing a private joke, but refused to answer.</p><p class="pref-38">It took all of her self-control not to rip their throats out. Damned Dobycha. She hated them all. The best part of running her own small operation was that she didn’t bother with Pok at all. Though, realistically Pok weren’t an option anyway without Alpha thrall and Anael saw nothing but disadvantages to relying on humans whose ultimate loyalty was to her brother.</p><p class="pref-39">Her temper wasn’t improved when she arrived at the main house and was greeted by a Pok servant rather than Hester and was advised that all of the Pack members were too busy to meet with her but that she was, of course, free to enter the building as per Neomin’s demand.</p><p class="pref-40">The Pok slipped away, before Anael had even recovered from the blatant disrespect of the message, and Anael found herself alone in the main entrance with no idea whatsoever of which direction to take.</p><p class="pref-41">She sniffed the air, searching for Alpha spoor.</p><p class="pref-42">Faint traces of Petrichor lingered, the familiar scent of her brother, but no other Alpha scent pervaded the house.  She blinked in confusion. Even if Sam Winchester was not in the house, his scent pile should have pervaded the walls and, as Alphakin, she was <em>particularly</em> sensitive to Alpha scent.</p><p class="pref-43">She could smell the Omega though. <em>Everyone </em>could smell Omegas. The delicious  scent pile was flora and fruit. A sweet heady mix of bergamot, mandarin, lavender, jasmine, neroli and amber. With strong top notes of coconut and pineapple. Damn. The Omega smelled like flowers floating in a Pina Colada.</p><p class="pref-44">She licked her lips unconsciously as she wondered whether he looked as good as he smelled.  If he did - and realistically weren’t <em>all </em>Omegas supposed to be unbearably beautiful? - then the most confusing question was why the hell was Castiel away from Poughkeepsie when his Omega was in situ?</p><p class="pref-45">Anael followed the irresistible scent, though she was unsure whether her motivation was the near-religious urge to meet a real-life Omega or the need to check out the ‘competition’. To be fair, there was no part of her even capable of wishing any harm on the Omega. If it proved... necessary... to remove Castiel and Gan from power to further her ambitions, it would be her brother’s life that was at risk, not his mate’s.  Anael was hungry for power, but she was not insane.</p><p class="pref-46">Omegas were inviolate.</p><p class="pref-47">Alpha brothers were not.</p><p class="pref-48">And, of course, she also had the Scottish option.</p><p class="pref-49">Perhaps her best route towards gaining the attention of Sam Winchester was to gain the confidence of his Omega brother.</p><p class="pref-50">So she smoothed her hair and fixed a bright smile on her face. She too was beautiful and she was sure Gan Winchester was in desperate need of a ‘sister’, an ally, a ‘girlfriend’, someone to giggle with and confide in.</p><p class="pref-51">Damn, she wished she had turned up in a dress now.  Some designer frock that the Omega might squee over, so they could become embroiled in a discussion of current fashion. She was pretty sure that frocks and jewels were an Omega’s primary topic of conversation with their girlfriend.</p><p class="pref-52">Anael could be that girlfriend.</p><p class="pref-53">The approval of the Omega would probably get her into Sam’s bed faster than any amount of flirting.</p><p class="pref-54">But she couldn’t meet the Omega empty handed.</p><p class="pref-55">She turned on her heel and ran lightly back to the front door, then trotted down the steps to where she had parked her car.  She rummaged in the trunk, cursing the mess that had been left by the Pok at the Gatehouse.  It took her a while, but she found it.  A wrapped present she had been driving around with for months just in case.</p><p class="pref-56">Neomin was not an Omega, but she certainly had expensive tastes.</p><p class="pref-57">Several months earlier Anael had happened across an 1880 Silver Austrian-Hungarian Green Enamel and Ruby Bird Necklace in an antique shop. Unable to thrall, she had been forced to pay over $2000 of real cash for the damned thing, but it had been worth it simply to have a get-out-of-jail-free bribe available if she ever needed Neomin to intercede in a dispute between herself and Castiel.</p><p class="pref-58">The bright, colourful, chunky bird was a tiny work of art far more valuable due to its unique craftsmanship than its actual price tag.</p><p class="pref-59">It would be a perfect welcoming gift to an Omega from his new ‘sister’.</p><p class="pref-60">Anael ran lightly back up the steps, entered the house and followed her nose unerringly to the room where Gan Winchester waited.</p><p class="pref-61">He was in the conservatory, his back turned, so he didn’t see her enter. He was facing an easel, dabbing splotches of color on a painting that was more cheerfully enthusiastic than indicative of true talent.  Her first sight of him stole her breath. Not because of the way he was dressed, though she had been expecting a gown, but because of the sheer height of him and the way his wide shoulders stretched the fabric of his white shirt so that it was almost translucent.</p><p class="pref-62">The Beringian genes were obvious in both brothers, she decided, because the Omega was almost a foot taller than her.  His hair was almost as long as hers, tied back in a loose ponytail, and, as he sensed or heard her and turned in her direction,she saw that he was not only pretty as a collie pup but had the type of muscle mass most Alphas would envy.</p><p class="pref-63">It was no wonder, given his height and musculature, that the embroidered white shirt he was wearing was a little tight across the chest despite having clearly been originally designed to blouson. She recognised the style and design as Russian. Had Gan been a normal size, the shirt would have fully worked as a floppy artist’s tunic. As it was, Gan was forced to wear it half unbuttoned so he looked more like the cover model for a cheap romance novel.</p><p class="pref-64">Perhaps that was the reason he wasn’t wearing a gown. Anael doubted Gan would successfully be able to wear any item of clothing that wasn’t made to order.</p><p class="pref-65">Castiel would be bankrupt keeping <em>this</em> Omega in designer clothes.</p><p class="pref-66">Even as she had the thought, she was disturbed to consider Gan probably would look even better without them. Having  thoughts like those about an Omega was scandalous. But he looked so damned Alpha in form, if not deportment.</p><p class="pref-67">”I’m Castiel’s sister, Anael. But my friends call me Anna,” she said, with a deliberately friendly grin. “And since we’re practically sisters now, we should definitely be friends.”</p><p class="pref-68">Gan frowned at her, shaking his head so that the wispy ends of his lustrous locks, those that had escaped his pony tail to dangle around his face, swayed artfully. “Sisters?” he demanded, a little sharply.</p><p class="pref-69">Oops. It didn’t sound as though Castiel’s seduction was working yet - though she was hardly surprised. She imagined an Alpha like Castiel might object to having to stand on a footstool to kiss his Omega.</p><p class="pref-70">”Forgive me,” she said, exaggerating her accent. “English is not my mother tongue. I sometimes chose the wrong word. Perhaps indicating a kinship is less appropriate than suggesting we might be comrades. Boon companions. Best friends.”</p><p class="pref-71">He looked charmed by the prospect, though if he were not Omega she might have sworn his glance at her was more one of attraction than interest in her as a ‘friend’.</p><p class="pref-72">“I brought you a gift,” she said, offering the package. “It is tradition.”</p><p class="pref-73">He looked a little confused but accepted the gift, opened it and then his face filled with delight. “It’s beautiful, Anna,” he said. “The craftsmanship is breathtaking.”</p><p class="pref-74">“I was told you had green eyes,” she said, “so I thought it would suit you. Though,” she paused thoughtfully, as he squeed shamelessly over the jewellery, “I would say your eyes are more hazel than green.”</p><p class="pref-75">“Oh yeah,” he agreed, as he put the necklace on and then crossed to preen in the mirror over the unlit fireplace. “Dean’s the one with the green eyes.”</p><p class="pref-76">“Dean?” she repeated, not even trying to hide her confusion.</p><p class="pref-77">He frowned into the mirror, looking confused, then his expression cleared. He turned to face her and smiled widely, his cheeks creasing into dimples. “Maybe you haven’t heard. Gabriel called me earlier to say Dean’s reclaimed his name. Seems like Castiel’s won him over after all. No more Gan Ainm. Thank God. It’s taken twelve years but it looks like Cas and Dean might make it after all.”</p><p class="pref-78">Anna felt as faint and wrong footed as she had been during her telephone conversation with her mother.  “Dean is <em>Gan</em>? Then you are <em>Sam</em>?” she asked cautiously, convinced she must be misunderstanding <em>something.</em></p><p class="pref-79">“Um... yeah?” he said, looking as delightfully confused as a huge, harmless puppy.</p><p class="pref-80">“о боже мой,” Anna breathed. </p><p class="pref-80">Oh my god.</p><p class="pref-81">Well, didn’t <em>that</em> change everything?<br/>
<br/>
</p><p class="pref-82"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There is an Anna and an Anael in spn. For the sake of this story, they are one and the same person.  Picture Anael as looking like a young Anna Milton 😉</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="pref-1">“I don’t wanna,” Dean pouted sulkily.</p>
<p class="pref-2">”Are you five years old?” Cas replied archly. </p>
<p class="pref-3">“If I say yes, do I get a free pass?” Dean smirked.</p>
<p class="pref-4">”Of course,” Cas agreed solemnly. “However, you would also need to stop what you’re currently doing anyway, so would achieve nothing.”</p>
<p class="pref-5">Dean blinked several times, then his face screwed up into a look of utter disgust. “Uh, that’s gross, Cas,” he said, freezing in place as though the comment had completely derailed his mood.</p>
<p class="pref-6">Cas smiled beatifically. Then he clenched his buttocks and flicked his pelvis upwards, driving a deep groan of satisfaction from his mate.  Conversation was forgotten entirely for a few minutes as Dean continued his experiment of whether  ‘Rode hard and put away wet’ was just a saying or a physical possibility.  So far the experiment was proving highly successful, although Cas was not the only one of them whose skin was glistening with sweat.</p>
<p class="pref-7">”Gabriel’s right,” Cas said, a little breathlessly, after he had arched into a third orgasm. His knot had been holding Dean for almost two hours. Although the ‘entrapment’ was definitely not one of his own making.  “We’ve been away from the Pack for almost two weeks. I need to get back to work. We agreed last night we would set off for Poughkeepsie first thing this morning.  It is most definitely no longer ‘first thing’.”</p>
<p class="pref-8">“Of course you need to return to work,” Dean said agreeably. “You can get right on that. Up and at ‘em, big boy.”</p>
<p class="pref-9">”Well, I would,” Cas pointed out. “Except <em>someone </em>keeps trapping me in place.”</p>
<p class="pref-10">”It’s you with the knot,” Dean pointed out virtuously. “Not my fault you’re incapable of a morning ‘quickie’ like a <em>normal </em>person.”</p>
<p class="pref-11">”That would be more convincing if you didn’t keep squeezing down on me every time I soften enough to withdraw.”</p>
<p class="pref-12">”Victim blaming,” Dean said sagely.</p>
<p class="pref-13">Cas boggled. “You aren’t seriously claiming to be the ‘victim’ here?”</p>
<p class="pref-14">Dean frowned. “You really want me to stop? Because I will,” he threatened.</p>
<p class="pref-15">Cas laughed, low and confident. “No you won’t, because you’re having too much fun abusing me.”</p>
<p class="pref-16">”You’re calling this <em>abuse?”</em></p>
<p class="pref-17">“To use or treat in such a way as liable to cause harm. A perfect definition of  abuse.”</p>
<p class="pref-18">Dean spluttered. ”What harm?” he demanded incredulously, though he deliberately squeezed down on Cas’s knot just in case it was even <em>thinking</em> of trying to deflate again.</p>
<p class="pref-19">”Long term addiction,” Castiel said piously. “Followed by long periods of painful withdrawal.”</p>
<p class="pref-20">”Which takes us conveniently back to ‘I don’t wanna’,” Dean pointed out.</p>
<p class="pref-21">Cas sobered slightly. “If you have changed your mind...” he began.</p>
<p class="pref-22">”Okay, I just mean I don’t wanna <em>yet,” </em>Dean amended. “I don’t feel ready to deal with having the whole ‘I’m knocked up’ conversation with Sam.”</p>
<p class="pref-23">”So don’t,” Cas shrugged. “It’s nobody’s business except ours. Your scent is already totally different, so it’s not as though anyone will pick up <em>that </em>particular change and you won’t show for months yet. We can’t avoid everyone knowing we’ve mated, because of the scent thing, but anything else can stay private for now. Your body, your business.”</p>
<p class="pref-24">”You don’t mind?” Dean demanded, chewing his lower lip doubtfully.</p>
<p class="pref-25">”I’m Alpha, Dean. Of course I mind. I want to strut around like a proud peacock, showing off my pregnant mate as proof of my virility. However, I am civilized enough to know that urge is primal and pathetic and that no one <em>actually </em>cares about the potency of my balls. Well, except for my parents.”</p>
<p class="pref-26">”Urggh,” Dean spat, relaxing his muscles from their greedy grasp on Cas’s flesh. “that did it. Mood <em>officially </em>ruined.”</p>
<p class="pref-27">”Ohh,” Cas said, a little sadly, as his abused cock was finally allowed to start deflating.</p>
<p class="pref-28">”Careful what you wish for,” Dean said blithely.</p>
<p class="pref-29">“Indeed,” Cas sighed, unable to prevent his withdrawal. It was <em>theoretically </em>possible to will a knot to deflate but only if you had the mind discipline of a Vedic master. Equally, it was inevitable that a cock that had been drained three times in quick succession would feel no biological need to remain locked inside the receptacle of its bounty. Though it wasn’t <em>that </em>smart either, considering Dean was already well and truly ‘knocked up’, making a knot completely surplus to requirements anyway.</p>
<p class="pref-30">”Anyway, I’m hungry,” Dean announced. “Go put the bacon on while I have a shower,” he demanded imperiously.</p>
<p class="pref-31">”Yes, dear,” Castiel muttered under his breath, as Dean rolled off him and stood up next to the bed with a wince as his abused thigh muscles shot an angry protest through his legs as full circulation resumed.</p>
<p class="pref-32"> xxx</p>
<p class="pref-33">“It’s out of the question,” Cas told Gabriel, glad Dean was inside still eating so hadn’t heard his brother’s suggestion.  “Even if Dean was comfortable with the idea of flying, there’s no way he’ll agree to someone else driving his car home.  So the three of you can fly without us and we’ll meet you there some time tomorrow.”</p>
<p class="pref-34">”Not happening,” Benny grunted. “If you aren’t flying, neither are me and Viktor. We’ll come with you. Gabriel can use our car to get to the airport.”</p>
<p class="pref-35">The bodyguards had arrived at the cabin in a rental. Gabriel had used an Uber. So there was only one car other than Baby parked outside the cabin.</p>
<p class="pref-36">Cas pursed his lips.  “Drop Gabriel off and follow us,” he compromised. “Dean is an aggressive driver. Let’s not risk any <em>accidents </em>inside Baby.”</p>
<p class="pref-37">All three Betas flushed scarlet. Benny and Viktor suddenly decided they had ‘things’ to do and disappeared off the veranda, leaving Cas and Gabriel alone.</p>
<p class="pref-38">”So, um, what’s with that, anyway?” Gabriel asked.</p>
<p class="pref-39">Caas contemplated pretending he had no idea what his brother was asking, then sighed as he realized there was no point putting the conversation off any longer.     “Dean believes, and I concur, that what we consider <em>normal</em> Omega and Alpha scents are merely ‘attractors’. Designed specifically to encourage an optimum mating. After which, their scents evolve into a new form. This form.”</p>
<p class="pref-40">”As long as the mating is achieved by scent bond rather than bite?” GAbriel queried carefully.</p>
<p class="pref-41">”We think so. Although, as Dean says, an actual mating bite might not make a difference at this point. It’s highly possible an <em>adult</em> Omega is too strong to be affected by an Alpha bite anyway. It may only work if applied to an Omega prior to presentation, before they meet their wolf. We <em>think</em> the damage is done by the bite at the Age of Reason. But, naturally, Dean isn’t willing to test the theory.”</p>
<p class="pref-42">”Naturally,” Gabriel agreed, though his expression was still perturbed.</p>
<p class="pref-43">Cas stiffened slightly.  “You need to get over whatever your issue is,” he snapped. “If you can’t handle the idea of a powerful Omega, then I will be looking for a new First Beta. Dean is my mate. I will not have him feeling uncomfortable in his own pack.”</p>
<p class="pref-44">”Whoah,” Gabriel said, flinching and spreading his arms in a gesture of peace. unconsciously he tipped his head back, revealing his throat. Despite his submissive body language, his tone was aggrieved rather than apologetic when he spoke. “You can’t <em>order </em>people not to be scared, брат. You <em>both</em> stink like impending war. And my wolf is far more terrified of Dean than he is of you.”</p>
<p class="pref-45">”Really?” Cas scoffed. “Because from where I’m standing, I don’t think it’s your <em>wolf</em> with the problem. I didn’t see your wolf cowering from Dean’s. What I saw was a happy pup <em>thrilled </em>to follow an Omega wolf on a hunt. You were wagging your tail so hard it’s surprising you didn’t lift off like a helicopter. It’s <em>you </em>who doesn’t even want to be in the same room as him.”</p>
<p class="pref-46">Gabriel swallowed thickly, then dropped his head in defeated shame. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “But I can’t help how I <em>feel. </em>This isn’t about prejudice. Or at least I don’t <em>think </em>it is. I’m Wolfkin. I’m Bratva. I’m Pack. All three come with inbuilt protocols, fixed hierarchies. I understand my place and my role in all three. My behavior is both instinctual and learned. Every person I meet, Wolfkin or Dobycha fits neatly within that structure. I know what to say and what to do. I know who to submit to and who to dominate. It takes no thought, no decision on my part. It simply is the way things are. </p>
<p class="pref-47">“And now there is Dean. A complete wildcard. Someone totally outside my understanding. He is Omega, so <em>that </em>at least applies some basis for my behavior.  He is clearly far above me in the hierarchy. My submission to him was always assured. But it was a <em>learned </em>submission. A protocol, not an instinct. A respect, a knowledge that acting against him would be perceived as an inexcusable act of insanity, rather than an instinct. “</p>
<p class="pref-48">Cas frowned at him. “You’re saying you feel no <em>instinctual </em>urge to protect Omegas?”</p>
<p class="pref-49">Gabriel shook his head. “I’m explaining myself badly. Bear with me. It’s hard to put into words.  It’s a scent thing, I think. I remember smelling our Babushka, and yeah of course I was in awe of her anyway, a <em>learned </em>behavior, but I remember her scent. It was similar to how Dean’s used to be. Unique, but similar. They both smelled <em>beautiful. </em>Precious. Wonderful. As though they were living priceless works of art.  I smelled them and I <em>knew </em>I would lay my life down before allowing harm to come to either of them. <em>That</em> was my ‘instinctive’ reaction. Similar, in some ways, to the smell of a vulnerable pup. You follow?”</p>
<p class="pref-50">Cas nodded, as he considered his own memories of both his Babushaka and ‘Gan’. The ‘attractor’ scent of an Omega lured Alphas but inspired all <em>other </em>Wolfkin to protect them with the same savage ferocity as a mother protected her pups.  “That actually makes sense,” he agreed.</p>
<p class="pref-51">”So my problem with Dean is that he no longer smells like a ‘pup’ to me,” Gabriel explained awkwardly. “He smells like an Alpha. And I’m programmed to see all Alphas other than <em>my </em>Alpha as a threat. Even your sub-Alphas leave me in a constant state of alert. Not fear, since they are bound in obedience to you, but a degree of cautious wariness.  Dad, on the other hand, always makes me want to cack my pants.”</p>
<p class="pref-52">”That’s not a Beta thing, that’s a Dad thing,” Cas said dryly. “Trust me, he usually has the same effect on me too.”</p>
<p class="pref-53">Gabriel snorted. “Yeah, well, that kind of explains how I feel about Dean. It’s as weird as the dad thing. I mean, <em>you’re </em>my Alpha of All. Dad may be your hierarchical <em>equal, </em>butin <em>my </em>hierarchy he is below you. Yet he scares the fuck out of me far more than you just because he is so....well, <em>Alpha.”</em></p>
<p class="pref-54">“And I’m not?” Cas queried archly.</p>
<p class="pref-55">”You <em>know </em>what I mean. Although, come to think of it, the way you smell <em>now</em>, you’d probably make <em>Dad </em>cack his pants. Both you <em>and </em>Dean smell like sheer <em>power</em> to me now. The difference is, I am preprogrammed to expect my Alpha of All to make me quake in my boots. I can handle it.  I’m not preprogrammed to expect his mate to scare me too.”</p>
<p class="pref-56">”Really?” Cas mocked. “Have you <em>met </em>our mother?”</p>
<p class="pref-57">Gabriel laughed but shook his head. “It’s not the same thing. Mother can smite from a thousand paces by the power of her disapproval, but she’s Beta. It isn’t a scent thing. That’s what I’m adjusting to. I have no issue with Dean being weird as fuck. I have a problem with him <em>smelling </em>weird as fuck.  But I’ll adjust. I’ll have to adjust unless I want to spend the rest of my adult life wearing diapers.”</p>
<p class="pref-58">Cas’s answering laughter was genuine and far more relaxed as he understood and empathized with his brother’s position. “Speaking of Alphas and ‘constant wariness’, how do you explain Sam?  I haven’t even bitten him yet, but I don’t recall you having any issue with being in <em>very </em>close proximity to <em>him.”</em></p>
<p class="pref-59">“Shut the fuck up,” Gabriel grumbled. “The boy smells like an Omega. He’s obviously just triggering me into ‘protect the pup’ mode.”</p>
<p class="pref-60">Cas snickered, then sobered and said, “Be very careful, brother. He’s an Omega-line Alpha - despite all indications to the contrary. The Верхо́вный Суд will demand that he sires pups. Whatever his personal inclinations may or may not be, he will be expected to mate with a female.”</p>
<p class="pref-61">”Oh, don’t worry about the Верхо́вный Суд. Mother is clearly ten steps ahead of all of us.”</p>
<p class="pref-62">”What do you mean?”</p>
<p class="pref-63">”Hester callled.  Anna is at Poughkeepsie.”</p>
<p class="pref-64">”How dare she visit <em>my </em>pack without permission?” Castiel snarled.</p>
<p class="pref-65">“She isn’t visiting the pack. She’s visiting Mother’s гнездо,” Gabriel drawled dryly.</p>
<p class="pref-65">”You think St Petersburg have sent Anna after Sam?”</p>
<p class="pref-65">”She apparently made a bee-line straight for him,” Gabriel said. “She was all in the stupid pup’s face and, let’s face it, Anna’s going to twist that kid like a pretzel. He’s twenty. She’s a slag. Do the math.”</p>
<p class="pref-66">Considering he had just been warning his brother off, Castiel’s look of regret was genuine. “I’m sorry, Gabe,” he said. “Though Anna is preferable to Kali. Can you even imagine <em>her </em>getting her claws into Sam?”</p>
<p class="pref-66">Gabriel chuckled. “Trust me, Kali isn’t even in contention. She’s Alpha-sexual. She wouldn’t give Sam the time of day.”</p>
<p class="pref-66">”Owch,” Cas said.</p>
<p class="pref-66">”No, seriously. I’m not dissing Sam, quite the opposite. Whatever it is that attracts Kali to Alphas? Sam doesn’t have it. He’s unique. Like his brother. Problem is, Anna is definitely an ambitious Beta-sexual. She has screwed her way through more Boyeviks than I’ve eaten hot dinners. She might want the power of <em>mating</em> an Alpha but she sure as hell <em>hates</em> Alphas. I think Sam will be Anna-catnip.”</p>
<p class="pref-66">”Hmmm,” Cas murmured. “Whatever mother is up to, I wouldn’t worry about Anna and Sam. I can’t see Anna passing Dean’s sniff-test.  What worries me most is that Anna will tell Mom about <em>Dean.  </em>The odds of a St Petersburg invasion have just skyrocketed.”</p>
<p class="pref-66">Gabriel shrugged. “You didn’t ever imagine you were going to mate an Omega and escape a parental visit?”</p>
<p class="pref-66">”No,” Castiel sighed. “But I was hoping for more time. I’ll never forgive them if they give Dean reason to give up on me.”</p>
<p class="pref-66">Gabriel rocked on his heels. “But you’re <em>mated,”</em> he said.</p>
<p class="pref-66">”You forget,” Cas said. “In reality, Dean and I have been effectively mated for twelve years. All that’s changed is that Dean now has joined me in being unable to mate with another. He is not bound to actually <em>stay </em>with me. He and our p... our potential future... are not something I can take for granted. Relationships take work, Gabe. Interfering obnoxious in-laws are the last thing I need at this stage. I should have listened to Dean and agreed to stay here for longer.”</p>
<p class="pref-67"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cas knew his mate was up to something even before they left Defiance because Dean took Benny and Viktor aside and had a sharp, short argument with the two bodyguards just out of Cas’s hearing.</p>
<p>Well, not so much an ‘argument’ as Dean obviously telling the two men something they clearly didn’t want to hear; both making short, abortive and pointless attempts to wheedle out of something that immediately caused their scents to sour, and then both of them sloping off dejectedly, metaphorical tails tucked between their legs.</p>
<p>The fact Dean did so out of hearing but not out of <em>sight</em> suggested the subject was private rather than <em>secretive</em>, but naturally it still caused Cas to bristle with alarm.</p>
<p>”Something I should know?” Cas asked carefully. He and Dean were still slowly building a relationship and Cas was delicately traversing a thin line, picking his way between his natural instinct to jump in and defend his mate from any possible perceived danger and his knowledge that Dean would react aggressively towards any attempt to do so.  Dean fluctuated between finding his protective instincts patronising and ‘cute’, but he made it clear that neither were actually <em>welcome.</em></p>
<p>Dean offered him a wide shit-eating grin.  “Nah, it’s all cool,’ he said. His scent was satisfied. Triumphant. Smug.</p>
<p>Which wasn’t worrying at all.</p>
<p>The second clue he was up to <em>something </em>was that Dean insisted there was no point setting off until a good hour after the Betas had left. </p>
<p>“It won’t take them long to drop Gabe at the airport,” Cas pointed out. “They won’t even bother parking. He’s only got hand luggage.”</p>
<p>”I hate hanging around waiting,” Dean said casually. “We’ll meet up with them the other side of St Louis.  I’ve got better ways to spend my time while they do their thing.”</p>
<p>Cas was highly suspicious their ‘thing’ was not merely the depositing of his brother but since Dean’s ‘better ways’ involved a certain amount of tongue action he was effectively distracted enough to drop the subject.</p>
<p>It was only an hour and a half later, when they drove towards the I64 and he saw Benny and Viktor’s car pull out of a lay-by and join them, that Cas realized they were leaving St Louis via a different route than they had arrived.</p>
<p>”Um, where are we going?” he asked, frowning suspiciously.</p>
<p>Dean just gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I know we could just share the driving and do the whole thing without a break, but I think it’s stupid to drive for fifteen hours solid and arrive there exhausted. It’s at least a seven-hour drive to Columbus whichever road we take, and that’s almost halfway to Poughkeepsie so that’s where we’re going to stop for the night. It’s already sorted. Don’t worry, there’s a Hyatt thingy there, so you don’t need to rough it in a motel.”</p>
<p>Although a Hyatt ‘thingy’ was a welcome prospect, Cas’s face crumpled as he realized that meant Dean <em>wasn’t </em>intending to share the driving and he contemplated sitting motionless for seven hours in the car. Being a passenger was definitely worse than being a driver. His ass and lower back began to ache in anticipation and he groaned out loud.</p>
<p>”Exactly,” Dean said sagely. “We’re gonna have to break the journey up, so it makes sense to take a different route and see some new places.”</p>
<p>Dread curled around Cas’s spine. “Why do I instinctively feel a sense of trepidation?”</p>
<p>”Because you’re an uptight asshole with no natural sense of fun and adventure,” Dean said, with a fond grin. “But no worries because I have decided to accept the challenge of permanently removing the stick from your butt.”</p>
<p>While Cas was pleased that Dean felt relaxed enough to tease him, he thought the comment was a little unfair. “I am the American Alpha of All, Dean. While I admit having benefitted somewhat from your insistence I learn to have 'fun' during our private vacation, I have certain unavoidable responsibilities and am expected to portray a particular amount of decorum at all times in public,” he grumbled. “Being a responsible adult does not equate to being an ‘uptight asshole’.”</p>
<p>”Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Dean snickered. “Anyway, it’s not just you. It’s Benny and Viktor too. I mean, I get the whole Bratva shit but, really, what the fuck happened to the Wolfkin? You’re damned werewolves, which is the coolest shit, and yet you all live like a bunch of middle-aged, bible-belt republicans. You <em>all </em>need a bit of training in how to be<em> real</em> boys. None of you know how to have fun.”</p>
<p>It bothered Cas that Dean always used the term ‘you’ when referring to the Wolfkin. Not ‘we’.  Never ‘we’.  In a lot of ways, talking to Dean was like talking to Charlie.  Maybe he should give Charlie a raise, simply because dealing with her had given him some guidelines as to how to handle his mate. But that was ironic. Dean had far more in common with a feisty Pok than with any Wolfkin.  It seemed safer to table that thought and concentrate on the rest of Dean’s comments.</p>
<p>”Training? What have you done? What are you planning?" Cas frowned suspiciously. "Am I going to need to book therapy sessions for my bodyguards?” He was only half-joking. His Beta guards were almost anal about their adherence to traditional values and they took their roles extremely seriously. He imagined they had been driven almost to a nervous breakdown by their charge 'running away'. He doubted they were in any mood to relax and 'have fun'.</p>
<p>Dean pursed his lips and thought about it as he wove through the heavy traffic before the Highway. “Possibly,” he admitted finally. “I think Benny and Viktor are even more repressed than you used to be.  They almost had heart attacks at the idea of wearing anything other than suits.”</p>
<p>”They don’t <em>own</em> any clothes except suits,” Cas said, with relative certainty.  </p>
<p>“They do now,” Dean advised him, with a smirk.  “What?” he challenged, when Cas boggled at him.</p>
<p>”That’s what your argument was with them earlier?  You sent them to buy casual clothing?”</p>
<p>”It’s a road trip, Cas. We didn’t invite them, they <em>wanted</em> to come along. Which presumably means they want to do more than just sit in their car and sulk whenever we pull over and I sure as fuck am not walking around with a couple of Bratva shadowing us like a pair of Rent-a-goons.  Hardly a good way to remain inconspicuous anyway, is it? So I told ‘em they couldn’t come unless they dressed appropriately.”</p>
<p>Which, on the surface of it, made sense.  It was the reason Cas had agreed to wear jeans and tee himself that morning, even though his eyes had hovered longingly on his suit while he’d gotten dressed.  “The point of a suit is that it is appropriate for any situation,” he argued. “It is a quiet statement of conformity. While it might look ‘out of place’ in certain environments, it never creates any impression other than one of boring respectability.”</p>
<p>Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you can tell yourself that. It might even work for an average Joe. The three of <em>you</em> in suits just look like a mafia don with a couple of heavies... which, funnily enough, is exactly what you are. Besides, you’re definitely wrong about a suit working in ‘any’ environment.  When we hit Louisville, I need Benny and Viktor to look like genuine tourists, not a couple of Health and Safety inspectors.”</p>
<p>Cas frowned suspiciously. ”What exactly is in Louisville that requires ‘Health and Safety Inspectors’?”</p>
<p>”Do you even need to ask?” Dean snorted unapologetically.</p>
<p>Cas’s mind flooded with horror. ”NO,” he said. “Absolutely not. No more frat-boy humor, Dean.”</p>
<p>Dean smirked. “Don’t blame me. You’ve got a choice, Cas.  Either we drive four hours to Louisville, take a break and physically wear ourselves out before driving on to Columbus to reach our hotel, or we drive straight to Columbus and our bored as fuck Wolves will inevitably get up in the middle of the night and decide to have a party.  See? I’m just trying to be responsible here,” he said virtuously.</p>
<p>Sadly, Cas had to agree Dean had a point.  It probably would be his <em>own </em>wolf that would instigate the trouble if he just spent a solid seven hours as a passenger in Dean’s car.</p>
<p>He reached for his phone, googled Louisville, checked tripadvisor for ‘things to do’ and groaned again. “Really?”</p>
<p>”Yup. Kentucky Kingdom,” Dean agreed with a smirk.</p>
<p>”And Hurricane Bay,” Cas pointed out suspiciously.</p>
<p>Dean shrugged lightly. “Put it this way, Cas. Kentucky Kingdom has Ferris wheels and rollercoasters and all kinds of cool shit.  Chances are, we’ll never even get near the water attractions.  Wait till we hit Columbus and all bets are off. Guess what’s next to the Hyatt? Bi-centennial park and the Scioto Mile Fountain.”</p>
<p>”You looked it up already, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>”Just trying to be responsible,” Dean said innocently. “Last thing we need is a scandal of a whole pack of wolves getting spotted swimming in the middle of Columbus City.”</p>
<p>”You’re that sure Benny and Viktor would join in? Because I can’t see it. They’re far too responsible to get involved in your shenanigans.”</p>
<p>”My <em>what?” </em>Dean snorted. “And you are sooooo wrong.  Their wolves will follow my fluffy white ass <em>anywhere.”</em></p>
<p>Which, of course, was true. Cas needed to stop considering how Benny and Victor would <em>want </em>to behave and remember that their <em>wolves </em>were clearly in Dean’s thrall.  </p>
<p>Besides...</p>
<p>”I’ve never been on a rollercoaster,” he admitted thoughtfully.</p>
<p>”And I thought it was <em>me </em>with the fucked-up childhood,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. </p>
<p>Cas flinched slightly at the reminder of <em>why </em>Dean was so determined to experience all these things for himself.  And, yes, Dean <em>did </em>have a point. Cas had been raised as an Alpha heir. His own childhood had been a series of lessons in how to become an Alpha of All.  Neither his parents nor his tutors had considered ‘fun’ to be a necessary part of his education.</p>
<p>Ironically, for all his siblings had envied his Alpha status, Cas thought he would have been far <em>happier</em> as a Beta. He imagined Gabriel, Luke and Anna had been on a lot of rollercoasters. He doubted <em>Michael </em>had. His eldest brother was so rigid he made their <em>dad </em>seem laid-back.  </p>
<p>That was a disturbing thought.</p>
<p>Did he have more in common with Michael than with Gabriel?</p>
<p>Worryingly, before Dean had returned to his life, Castiel suspected he <em>had </em>been unconsciously emulating both Karl and Michael in his attitudes and behaviours.</p>
<p>He hadn’t even eaten a hotdog before Hunter Mountain.</p>
<p>He had <em>enjoyed </em>the hotdog.</p>
<p>”I enjoyed the hotdog,” he said.</p>
<p>Dean blinked at him for a moment, clearly confused by the non sequitur.  But then he seemed to get it, because he tipped his head back and laughed delightedly.  “Then just wait until you try cotton candy and bear claws,” he snorted.</p>
<p>“Do I assume no actual bears are going to be involved?”</p>
<p>”No cotton either,” Dean chuckled.</p>
<p>”Then drive on,” Cas agreed, deciding to relax and give in to the inevitable. “Continue your correction of my obviously woeful lack of education.”</p>
<p>”See?” Dean grinned. “I knew you secretly loved this shit.”</p>
<p>Cas’s heart thudded in his chest.</p>
<p>No.</p>
<p>No, he thought.</p>
<p>I don’t love <em>this.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>I love YOU.</em>
</p>
<p>And it was stunning, but true.  Oh sure, Dean was <em>mate. </em>They were soul-bound. They were inextricably linked together. Castiel’s Wolf had been enslaved by Dean for a dozen years. </p>
<p>MATE/ MATE / MATE his wolf sang in happy agreement.</p>
<p>Yes, he agreed, soothing it indulgently. Mate, mate, mate. Indeed.</p>
<p>But this was something different. Something <em>bigger.</em></p>
<p>Mate was biology.</p>
<p>Omega was duty.</p>
<p>Love was... was <em>more.</em></p>
<p>The car filled suddenly with the ozone scent of thunderous promise.</p>
<p>”I love you, Dean Winchester,” he said, the words as quiet as a whisper, as portentous as prophesy. </p>
<p>Dean flashed a grin at him, a feral smirk of wild lightning.</p>
<p>”I know,” he said.</p>
<p>xxx</p>
<p>Ironically, at exactly the same time as Benny and Viktor were reluctantly and awkwardly purchasing shorts and Hawaiian shirts as per their Omega’s firm instructions, a thousand miles away another Wolfkin was purchasing unfamiliar clothes on a Poughkeepsie Pack credit card. </p>
<p>His purchases were somewhat less reluctant, although he felt equally out of his depth in the irrepressible company of Anna Krushnic. The Beta was beautiful and vibrant and confident. She was only eight years older than him but the chasm between them was so huge he didn’t think it was possible to breach.  He was charmed - and not a little flattered by her interest - but he wasn’t absolutely certain he was enjoying being treated like her dress-up Ken doll.</p>
<p>On the other hand, he had been feeling pretty weird and out of place at the Pack house since Gabriel had hared off in pursuit of his brother and Castiel. The other pack Betas had been polite and respectful, but distant. His designation, and lack of a pack bite, had set him too far apart for anyone to be <em>friendly.  </em></p>
<p>Except for Bobby and Charlie, nobody had wanted to actually converse with him other than polite ‘good mornings’ and ‘pass the salt’ type comments in the communal dining area. So he’d been feeling bored and a little lonely, reduced to painting (badly) alone in the conservatory between mealtimes.</p>
<p>And, sue him, but he <em>liked </em>nice things.</p>
<p>Dean had never allowed him to go without, but Dean was frugal too. He was totally disinterested in designer clothes, preferring function over form. Sam was pretty certain Dean would be horrified at the idea of spending thousands of dollars on a mere item of clothing.</p>
<p>Hell, it was difficult to convince his brother to shop anywhere except Walmart - who admittedly did a perfectly good selection of Big and Tall clothing  - and as far as Dean was concerned clothes, like motels, only needed to do their jobs. Dean’s only personal sartorial indulgence was a leather jacket he’d purchased from <em>Goodwill</em>.  Which said it all, didn’t it?</p>
<p>”I just don’t think a suit is <em>necessary,</em>” Sam told Anna apologetically. Reluctantly. Because the suit was <em>gorgeous.  </em>Not black and boring and Alpha.  The salesman said the color was ‘military green’, though it looked Khaki brown to his eyes,  a rich shiny mohair silkthat clung like a glove and felt so nice against his skin. And a body that looked coltish and oversized in jeans and tees, suddenly looked powerful, elegant, commanding and <em>rich. </em>It didn’t make him look like Bratva. It made him look like he should be escorting Anna down a red carpet.</p>
<p>”Nonsense,” she said. “You’re planning to be a lawyer, aren’t you? Suits aren’t really optional. Anyway, just wait until we get you fitted with a properly tailored suit. You’re going to look wonderful. But this Tom Ford is passable as a temporary substitute.”</p>
<p>Sam carefully checked they weren’t being overhead, then whispered. “This ‘temporary substitute’ is over $5000.”</p>
<p>”Nearer $7000 by the time they’ve made a couple of overnight adjustments and delivered it and a couple of shirts, but at least you’ll be able to take me to the theatre tomorrow night.”</p>
<p>”I just don’t think it’s me,” Sam protested. And this time it wasn’t the price tag he was referring to. Although he could see the point of having a nice suit or two for special occasions, he didn’t want to permanently dress like the average Wolfkin in their solemn suits. Yes, the Tom Ford was a world apart from the suits most of the Pack wore, far closer to the style of Gabriel (which was something Sam admired) but Sam liked colourful, vibrant clothes far more than formal attire.</p>
<p>”Well, obviously, not <em>all</em> the time,” she allowed. “I think I need to introduce you to Neiman Marcus next.”</p>
<p>”Who?”</p>
<p>”What,” she grinned. “I can just see you in Robert Graham and Alexander McQueen.  Come on. It’ll be fun. Let’s find out exactly what the limit is on this credit card.”</p>
<p>Sam paled slightly. “I don’t think you should be spending all this Pack money on me, Anna. Isn’t Castiel going to object?”</p>
<p>She laughed gaily. “Castiel and I might not see eye to eye, Sam, but I’m still his sister. The one thing he has <em>never </em>begrudged me is money. I’m a Krushnic. I have standards to maintain. I refuse to be this close to New York and not catch up with the latest Broadway shows, and you <em>promised </em>you’d accompany me.”</p>
<p>Sam chewed his lower lip. He <em>had </em>promised, caught up with excitement at the idea when she’d put it to him, but he’d had no idea simply going to theatres involved completely reinventing himself and spending so much <em>money. </em></p>
<p><em>“Shoes,”</em> Anna said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him in the direction of rows of gorgeous, glorious shoes.  Shoes that were so expensive they didn’t even have price tags attached.</p>
<p>Shoes. Suits. Theatres.</p>
<p>”You’re an <em>Alpha,” </em>Anna reminded him. “Nice things are your birthright, aren’t they? Why are you fighting it?”</p>
<p>And looking at Anna, another ‘nice thing’, Sam began to wonder the same thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean was proud of himself for maintaining a solemn expression when Benny and Viktor decamped their vehicle, both glowering heavily.</p><p>He definitely didn’t want them to think he was laughing at their appearance - even though they both had arms and legs that were so pasty white they looked completely incongruous in khaki shorts and garish Hawaiian short-sleeved shirts - because it was their expressions rather than their clothes that looked out of place at Kentucky Kingdom.</p><p>Two condemned prisoners marching towards a scaffold couldn’t possibly have looked more miserable than the two Betas. Though it was a toss-up whether they were more disgruntled about their lack of suits or their lack of guns; Dean had made it perfectly clear that weapons were forbidden for this excursion.</p><p>Cas didn’t help the situation by looking at the two Betas in fake confusion and saying, “Sorry, do I know either of you?”</p><p>Had he not been the Alpha of All, Dean suspected the Betas would have responded with more than just sulky, frigid glares of distain.</p><p>”Funnel cakes,” he announced brightly, to cut through the ice, and was both saddened and unsurprised that not one of his three companions looked anything other than totally confused.</p><p>But it was only when they had bought tickets and Dean dragged them eagerly not towards the rides but directly to a row of food concessions that the other men actually baulked. Primarily because, to their left, screams were inexorably drawing their attention to the vast presence of a rollercoaster proudly named the Lightning Run.</p><p>Cas took one look at the huge plates of calorific fat crispy doughnut worms dusted white with sugar, and he turned a weird shade of green.  “Perhaps,’ he suggested quietly, “food might be more appropriate <em>after </em>you’ve dragged us on those death machines”.</p><p>“Huh,” Dean snorted, his mouth twisting into a mocking smirk as he purchased himself a huge strawberry topped funnel cake sundae. “Well, sure, if you guys want to wuss out, that’s up to you. I ain’t gonna call ya out just ‘cos you’re scared.”  He started shovelling sugary goodness into his mouth, making exaggerated moans of pleasure that made Cas’s ears flush pink and the Betas shuffle uncomfortably.</p><p>Sadly, despite the obvious effectiveness of his food porn groans, his mate was far too self-assured to rise to the ‘scared’ comment.</p><p>Benny and Viktor, on the other hand, bristled and responded to his challenge by purchasing funnel cakes of their own.</p><p>”This is going to end messily,” Cas announced dryly.</p><p>”Ya think?” Dean smirked. </p><p>“I do have to question, though, why you are so set against flying when you evidently have no fear of heights,” Cas said, looking dubiously at the extreme stature of the various attractions.</p><p>Dean made an effort to swallow <em>most </em>of the food in his mouth before starting to reply. “‘S’not the same thing,” he said.  “‘Sides, I don’t have a fear of flying. I have a fear of <em>falling. </em>It’s always the ground that’s gonna kill you,<em>” </em>he pointed out sagely. “A fall from a hundred foot is gonna hurt like fuck. A fall from twenty thousand feet? Well, do the math. Anyway, it’s more a control thing. I don’t like being driven either.”</p><p>Cas pondered that for a moment, then his frown cleared and a spark of understanding flared in his eyes. “So you would object less to flying if <em>you </em>were the pilot?”</p><p>”Dunno. But probably. I did one of those 3D VR simulation things once and it still turned my stomach ‘cos it was too real. But sitting in that fake cockpit felt better than the idea of being a passenger.  Then again, I knew it wasn’t <em>really </em>real, so who knows? Still was the closest I have ever come to hurling my cookies.”</p><p>”Why on earth would you have done that?”</p><p>”It was Sammy’s idea. He called it ‘immersion therapy’. He was pretending to be all caring and shit. Truth was he just wanted us to fly to California, rather than do it in Baby. ‘ Course, we needed to take that road trip to find Bobby, so it’s probably just as well Sam’s idea of ‘therapy’ didn’t work.”</p><p>”But you weren’t actually nauseous?”</p><p>”Course not. Cast iron stomach. What goes down <em>never </em>comes back up,” he said firmly. “I never waste food.”</p><p>Cas’s face did that complicated thing it always did whenever Dean accidentally said anything that reminded him of Dean’s childhood. Like he didn’t know whether to give Dean a hug or rip a few throats out,</p><p>Shit. Mood killer.  Dean quickly changed the subject. “So I gotta ask, Cas, because this place is kinda crowded. You gonna wolf-out on me or can you keep it in your pants today?”</p><p>Viktor snorted loudly.</p><p>“I assure you that unless someone pulls a gun out and aims it at you, I am highly unlikely to respond inappropriately,” Cas replied stiffly, all traces of his earlier concern gone.</p><p>Dean smirked.  “Cool, because it’s time to party.”</p><p>xxx</p><p>“So where the fuck is she?” Gabriel demanded.</p><p>”Both Anael and Sam Winchester have gone to New York. They apparently are ‘shopping’. My understanding is that they intend to stay there a couple of days and see a theatre show tomorrow night,” Hester announced, her tone bland but her eyes shadowed with the same concern as Gabriel was feeling.</p><p>”Dammit,” Gabriel said.  “She’s not wasting any time getting her claws in, huh?”</p><p>”Far be it from me to make any disparaging comment about a Krushnic,” Hester murmured. “It would be highly inappropriate for me to call your sister a skank.”</p><p>”What show did they book?” Gabriel demanded, his eyes twinkling with mirth.</p><p>”Moulin Rouge,” she said, rolling her eyes.</p><p>”Anna always knows how to set a mood.”</p><p>“She’s gone all out. Can Can table seating, Row A, naturally.”</p><p>“Naturally,” Gabriel snarled.  “Find out who has the other row A table and make them an offer they can’t refuse.  See if you can get the row B tables too.  Let’s surround them with Pack, just in case.”</p><p>Hester chuckled.  “Heh, ‘an offer they can’t refuse’. I always wanted someone to say that to me. It’s like being a cabbie, waiting all your life for someone to say ‘follow that cab’.”</p><p>”Just try to avoid decapitating any horses.”</p><p>”Of course,” she agreed. “I’ll <em>try.”</em></p><p>”Seriously, Cassie and Dean will be getting back here sometime tomorrow. I don’t want them arriving here and immediately getting distracted by worry about Sam. Dean isn’t going to be happy to learn his brother has cleared off down to the City.  Let’s be in a position to assure them protection is in place.”</p><p>”I’m not sure <em>that’s </em>the kind of protection Sam needs the most,” Hester said dryly.</p><p>”Well, I’m hoping someone’s already had ‘the talk’ with the moose but, just in case, make sure the brownstone Pok stock all the guest suites with condoms. If we can’t head this off at the pass, let’s at least circle the wagons. In the meantime, I think I need to go talk to Bobby Singer.”</p><p>xxx</p><p>“The clue was in the name,” Viktor growled defensively. “Fear fall.”</p><p>Dean chuckled. “Yeah, the whole idea of it is you hit the bottom while your stomach is still a hundred foot in the air. Don’t sweat it. Loads of people upchuck after that one.”</p><p>”Or during it,” Cas mumbled quietly, his lips twitching.</p><p>”Don’t pick on him,” Dean scolded. “He did fine the first couple of times. Three times in a row was probably too much though,” he added thoughtfully. “But the lines too long now to go for a fourth anyway. No harm, no foul. </p><p>”Easy for you to say,” Benny grumbled. “You weren’t sitting next to him.”</p><p>”Which is why we’re doing Mile High Fall next. We’ll all get drenched, so it’s as good as you getting a shower,” Dean assured him.</p><p>”Drenched?” Cas complained, looking far less smug. “You said we weren’t going to do Hurricane Bay.”</p><p>”I actually said we might not have time to do the water park,” Dean corrected sweetly. “But don’t worry, Cas. Mile High Fall isn’t counted as being in the water park.”</p><p>”But it still involves water. Becoming ‘drenched’,” Cas scowled.</p><p>”It’s a thing, Cas. Fun. Water. They’re inextricably linked.”</p><p>”So it would appear. I, however, have barely recovered from pneumonia. It would not be sensible to tempt fate.”</p><p>”No worries. Benny can come with me and hold my hand instead,” Dean suggested innocently.</p><p>Cas growled. Benny turned the same puce color as Viktor. Dean whistled in happy victory and led his three companions to their inevitable fate.</p><p>xxx</p><p>By the time they had done the Thunder Run twice and the Stormchaser once, Cas was almost dry.  He didn’t expect the situation to continue. There were still a couple of hours left before they needed to set off again and he wasn’t even pretending he wasn’t enjoying himself.  Even Benny and Viktor had gradually loosened up enough to crack the occasional grin.</p><p>Inevitably, though, he was saved by Dean’s stomach.  They had staggered off the Stormchaser, Dean already turning with the intention of rejoining the line for a second go, when someone had walked past them clutching a half-eaten Taco.</p><p>Dean immediately changed direction, his nose wrinkling as he followed the spoor back to its origins.</p><p>Viktor definitely looked hesitant about the idea of eating, but Dean led the way and they all followed. Just as though the white wolf had chosen prey to hunt rather than a taco hut to raid.</p><p>It was as they were eating that they first became aware of the disturbance. A hysterical female, a couple of flustered rent-a-guards, a gathering crowd of rubber-necker’s and do-gooders.</p><p>Cas stiffened as, at a distance, his Wolfkin hearing picked up the words ‘call 911’ and ‘amber alert’ and ‘I’m sure she’s just wandered off, madam.”</p><p>Dean leapt to his feet, dropping his taco, his eyes flaring gold.  “Some kid’s been abducted, Cas.”</p><p>”She might just have gotten lost,” he said, parroting the guards.</p><p>Dean shook his head. “I can smell it, Cas.”  He paused and sniffed the air deeply, not caring the gesture looked peculiar. “A wrongness. Fear. Avarice. Lust.  Some creeper, Cas.”</p><p>Cas shook his head fretfully. “I can smell the fear,” he agreed, “but it might just be the mother.”</p><p>”Can’t smell anything ‘crept food and Dobycha,” Viktor said, and Benny nodded. Neither of them appeared to doubt Dean though, because they stiffened and asked, “what do you need us to do?”</p><p>”Can you track the spoor?” Cas asked Dean.</p><p>”No,” Dean admitted. “Not in this form. It’s not clear enough. But our wolf forms can.”</p><p>Cas winced slightly.  Perhaps the child was only Dobycha, but he would have been ‘human’ enough to care even if his own new status as a <em>father</em> wasn’t sending a jangling alarm through his body as he thought of a ‘pup’ in danger.  He could only imagine Dean was feeling a thousand times worse.  So it was with great reluctance that he quietly said, ”It’s Kentucky, not Indiana. Anything more than a 25% hybrid is illegal here. We can’t use our wolf forms in public.” </p><p>“Maybe you lot can’t, but I can,” Dean said. “Because my wolf has the keenest nose anyway and definitely looks less obviously wolf. I can throw a low level thrall around us to help the illusion.”</p><p>Cas thought about that. Whilst no one would mistake the white wolf for any form of purebred dog, Dean <em>did </em>have a certain elegance in his wolf form. Despite being lighter in frame than himself or the Betas, Dean’s wolf looked slim rather than rangy, and his head was finer, more elongated, more reminiscent of a white German Shepherd than a Gray Wolf.  Dean <em>could </em>probably pass for an F2 hybrid wolfdog, with a little thrall assistance for any particularly difficult  skeptics.</p><p>”Do you have a full kit in your trunk?” he asked the Betas.</p><p>”Of course,” Benny said. Just as they carried spare clothing to conceal wolfing-out incidents, as had proved so useful at Hunter mountain, the bodyguards always carried certain paraphernalia to easily reclaim pack too wounded to change out of wolf form.</p><p>”What kit?” Dean queried.</p><p>”Exactly what we need,” Cas said.  “Benny, Viktor, go tell the guards we’re able to assist and I’ll be returning with my tracker dog, so they need to tell the front gate to let us in.  With luck we can get this done long before the cops turn up with their own dogs.”</p><p>“Tracker dog?” Dean queried, as Cas rushed him to the exit.</p><p>“Benny and Viktor always carry wolf-size Search and Rescue K9 harnesses so if they need to retrieve pack in wolf form, they can pass them off as working wolfdogs.”</p><p>”Smart,” Dean agreed. “If suspiciously kinky.”</p><p>”Kinky?” Cas queried.</p><p>”What? You don’t think they ever play at bondage?”</p><p>”I don’t believe they even understood the definition of any form of ‘play’ before you corrupted them today,” Cas snorted.</p><p>As they reached the Betas’ car, and Cas began rummaging through the trunk for one of the harnesses, Dean dove into the backseat, stripped behind the protection of tinted windows, and emerged as the white wolf.</p><p>Cas pulled a flak vest over his tee, transforming himself with the single garment from a tourist to a ‘dog-handler’ and waved a harness at Dean. “Hope you’re on board with this,” he told the white wolf, knowing this was his <em>wolf’s</em> mate, rather than his own and that the wolf might not be quite as copacetic about wearing a harness as his human was. “Want to get kinky?” he asked it.</p><p>The wolf huffed, its eyes blazing gold, but it moved to allow Cas to strap the leather in place.</p><p>”At least <em>pretend</em> I’m in charge,” Cas warned, as he took the leash with his left hand and grabbed the harness’s handle with his right.</p><p>The scent of amusement wafted between them, and then the huge white ‘dog’ leapt forward and dragged him back towards the park.</p><p>A security guard was already waiting for them at the gate, clutching a teddy bear carefully in a gloved hand. “Didn’t know if you’d need to start from the point the kid went missing,” he said, ‘but to save time, I brought a scent anyway.”</p><p>”Good job,” Cas assured the human. “This is a very experienced dog. Just this scent here will probably give him enough to start tracking immediately.”</p><p>He knew Dean wouldn’t need the assistance at all, but the white wolf performed like an Oscar winner, taking an obvious deep sniff of the teddy bear, before emitting a howl and lurching forwards in a totally different direction than from where the guard had come.</p><p>”Wow, he really sounds like a wolf,” the guard gasped, already out of breath as he and Cas ran to keep up with the bounding ‘dog’.</p><p>”Yeah, he never quite managed to learn a bark,” Cas yelled back. </p><p>The white wolf chuffed laughter as it yanked him under the Lightning Run and northwards in the direction of a huge body of water.</p><p>”Don’t you dare,” he warned it. “You’ll lose the scent.”</p><p>Running fast enough that he could taste copper in his mouth as his lungs burned, and the guard was falling behind them, unable to keep up with the punishing pace, Cas still smelt the wolf’s disappointment as it ran <em>past </em>the Wave Lagoon rather than <em>through </em>it, until they reached a wooded area behind a sign advertising a ‘Plummet Summit’ and that was when Cas’s own nose caught the scent.</p><p>Sweat, fear, and the sickeningly sweet scent of a putrid sickness.  It wasn’t the first time Cas had smelled that type of ‘wrongness’. Samuel Campbell had stunk of mental illness too, but this smell was worse, sicker, darker and every instinct was telling him to shift and join his mate on four paws.</p><p>But, he reminded himself, this was not the first time the white wolf had retrieved a ‘lost’ child.  He even wondered, for the first time, whether that missing child from so many years ago had <em>also </em>been the victim of a human abductor. If so, had Dean meted out his own form of justice? Perhaps. But this wasn’t a forest, it was a lightly wooded amusement park where a body could not be disposed of.  Cas <em>had </em>to retain his human form to ensure this didn’t end in tragedy.</p><p>Even a <em>bite</em> from Dean as a ‘wolfdog’ could get him shot, even if he proved to be the hero of the situation. So Cas needed to stay human to avoid even more humans coming to harm because his mate was definitely not going to end up with a bullet inside him.</p><p>But even as they burst through the trees right on the trail of the man - the monster - who was now running with the child in his arms, it became obvious this was not going to end even in a fight, let alone a tragedy.</p><p>The man was late-middle aged, squat, balding, sweat pouring down his face as he looked over his shoulder in sheer terror at the huge white ‘dog’ bounding after him like a slavering hellhound.</p><p>Watching the white wolf, instead of where he was going, the man soon tripped and fell. The tiny girl tumbled out of his arms with a wailing scream of terror but landed on soft grass and it was obvious from the pitch of her wails that she was crying from fear rather than any pain.</p><p>It took all of Cas’s human strength to plant his feet and haul back on the handle of the harness, keeping the wolf from doing more than snap its teeth furiously at the fallen man, as the security guard barrelled past them, swan diving onto the suspect and making a citizen’s arrest.</p><p>Then it was total chaos, as a dozen more guards arrived hot on their heels, followed swiftly by the child’s mother and Benny and Viktor.  In the distance, they could already hear the wail of police sirens.</p><p>”We need to leave, Boss,” Viktor told him. “We can’t risk hanging around. This place is going to be swarming with cops and reporters soon.”</p><p>Cas sighed and nodded.  </p><p>The white wolf paused for a moment, staring yearningly over to where the tiny child and her mother were reuniting, and then allowed Cas to lead it back towards the park exit.</p><p>As they passed the Wave Lagoon, Benny said, “Surprised you didn’t end up in that, Boss.”</p><p>”So am I,” he agreed, even as the wolf trotting by his side chuffed with laughter. “I have a feeling Dean will find a way to assuage his wolf’s disappointment sooner or later.”</p><p>”Not to mention the fact he only ate half his Taco, and then burned up a gadzillion calories changing and running,” Viktor added.  “He’s going to be starving now.”</p><p>Cas groaned. “Okay,” he told the Betas. “We need to get out of this park right away, but get your phones out and start looking for somewhere we can eat on the way to Columbus. Cincinnati maybe. And then I need to call Gabriel and Charlie. I don’t think we need to do any damage limitation for today, but let’s play it safe.”</p><p>”Nah, he was a good dog, weren’t you?” Benny smirked at the white wolf.</p><p>Cas was uncharitable enough to enjoy the way his mate’s eyes flared at the Beta.  With a bit of luck, it was <em>Benny</em> who was now in the ‘doghouse’ and would end the day wet.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They had driven less than sixty miles before the grumbling of Dean's stomach transformed into audible growling at a signpost advertising the 'Hog Wild Pig Crazy BBQ' that claimed it was located a five-minute drive off the I71. In the event, it actually took nearer ten minutes to reach the restaurant - with Dean’s stomach rumbling an enthusiastic percussion to the engine’s roar - and Benny and Viktor being forced to do an illegal reverse down the highway after Dean had swung off without warning signals and the two Betas had consequently overshot the exit, but before long they were all seated and Dean was smiling at the menu with even more lust than he usually spared for his Alpha.</p><p>As they tucked into Pulled Pork and Brisket Sandwiches, with sides of Slaw and Fries, while they waited for further orders of racks of Ribs to be delivered to their table,  it occurred to Castiel that his entire relationship with Dean so far was simply a roadmap marked by stops for food, more food, a lot of water, some insane fun and the occasional moment of heart-stopping danger.</p><p>"And sex," Dean said, a little too loudly, when Cas mentioned his thoughts out loud.</p><p>"Yeah, don't forget the sex, boss," Benny snorted.</p><p>Both Cas and Viktor flushed with embarrassment.</p><p>Benny and Dean met each other's eyes and chuckled at the other men’s peculiar bashfulness. Sure it was a public restaurant but they were seated outside and well away from any other diners.</p><p>"Besides," Dean added, "You say that like it's not normal. That's just life, Cas. Eating, sleeping, fucking and fun, with the odd hairy moment thrown in to ease the boring mundanity. Well that’s life for ordinary non-bratva types anyway."</p><p>"There is nothing normal about your appetite, возлюбленная," Benny said.</p><p>Cas snarled and snapped his teeth audibly at his bodyguard. "Don't call him that and there's nothing wrong with a healthy appetite."</p><p>Benny just shrugged easily and offered an unapologetic grin at his Pakhan. "Never said it was wrong, but it's sure as hell not <em>normal</em>. I mean, where the hell does he even put it?"</p><p>"What's vozlyublennaya mean?" Dean whispered to Viktor, as Cas and Benny both swapped to speaking Russian and continued to argue.</p><p>"Sweetheart," Viktor chuckled. "Benny was just being friendly, but looks like he's playing with fire calling you pet names. I think our Alpha is feeling very territorial about you."</p><p>"As long as he doesn't decide to piss on me, that's cool," Dean said, taking advantage of Benny and Cas's argument to lift a handful of fries off his Alpha’s barely touched plate.  His Alpha.  <em>His </em>Alpha.  Dean flushed a little at how good it felt to think that.  Then decided his out of character chick-flick thoughts were obviously due to manly hunger. He glanced sadly down at the nuclear wasteland of his own empty plate, then looked across the table and narrowed his eyes in hungry contemplation.</p><p>Considering Cas was supposed to have super Alpha senses, or some similar shit, he definitely seemed incapable of multitasking because Dean proceeded to swipe a second handful of fries without a problem.</p><p>Having gotten away with it, and seeing Cas was still totally distracted, Dean took one look at the diner entrance from where their ribs still hadn't emerged, shrugged, and then swiftly and surreptitiously swapped his empty plate for Cas's still more than half-full one.</p><p>By the time Cas had stopped telling Benny off and had returned his attention to the table, it was too late.</p><p>The Alpha's double-take at his empty plate was comical.  Very slowly, but surely, he immediately raised a suspicious glare in his mate's direction.</p><p>"What?" Dean asked, his eyes wide with innocence despite his mouth still being filled with half-chewed stolen fries. "I'm ithe ar feadh dhá."</p><p>Castiel's frown of mild annoyance transformed into a blush that stained both his cheeks.  "I'll... um... go chase those ribs," he said, jumping to his feet and almost running into the diner, Viktor at his heels.</p><p>"Knocked up already, huh?" Benny said quietly.</p><p>Dean looked at him in startled shock.</p><p>"Don't ever assume you're the only one who speaks Gaelic," Benny warned him, but his expression was soft and pleased at the news. "And I guess 'eating for two' is as good an excuse as any."</p><p>"I don't want people to know yet. It's not a secret exactly... but it's <em>private</em>," Dean said urgently.</p><p>Benny made a dramatic lip-zipping motion. "Won't come from my lips," he promised.</p><p>"Why do you speak Gaelic?"</p><p>"You didn't honestly think 'Benny' was a Volkrod name?" Benny laughed. "My folks were Faelar.  One of Campbell's greatly neglected sub-packs. They were among the first to defect to Volkrod rule when Cas's daddy offered them an Alpha of their own. So I was born and raised Volkrod, but I didn't lose my roots."</p><p>"I always wondered about that. What happened to all the other Faelar, I mean.  Didn't want to ask really, considering none of the Faelar have any reason not to hate my entire family."</p><p>Benny shrugged. "We're all Volkrod now. But the Russians weren't assholes. They didn't insist the Faelar embraced all of their ways, just that we obeyed their rules. Though most of my generation simply preferred to forget their roots and fully bought into being Volkrod. We all wanted to be part of the 'cool' crowd," he laughed. "It's only the older Faelar pack members who hold on to their history with any passion and, yeah, that includes their hatred of the Campbells. But you're a Winchester anyway, aren't you?  When I called my mom and told her about you and Sam having survived Wolfsbane after all, she was thrilled. Went on and on about the pair of you bringing the pride of the Faelar back to this country. She said, 'those boys will bhaint stain as ár n-ainm'."</p><p>"Remove the stain from our name? Makes us sound like Oxy-clean," Dean joked, flushing with pleased embarrassment.</p><p>"Yup. Maybe that explains all the water," Benny chuckled. "Seriously, what IS it with your wolf and water?"</p><p>"My Wolf seems positive that swimming ability is proof of virility or something. He may have a point, all things considered. I’ve got no complaints though. I mean, have you seen Cas wet?" Dean said, and licked his lower lip hungrily.</p><p>Benny burst into a loud bellow of laughter. He was still red-faced and spluttering when Cas and Viktor returned bearing two baskets of fries and a promise the ribs would be following shortly.</p><p>Dean made grabby motions at the basket in Cas's hand.</p><p>”These are just replacing the ones you stole from me,” Cas protested.</p><p>Dean growled low in his throat.</p><p>“That’s why we brought two baskets,” Viktor announced quickly, handing Dean the one he was carrying.</p><p>”Thank you, Viktor. At least <em>one </em>of you cares about me,” Dean sniffed. Then he  dove unashamedly into the important business of filling his mouth with crisp, fluffy goodness.</p><p>Viktor beamed.</p><p>Cas growled.</p><p>Benny rolled his eyes dramatically. “We should have stuck with Elk,” he suggested. “At least our wolves have the manners to wait for Dean to be satiated before they even start eating.”</p><p>Cas looked a little horrified at the pointed reminder, dropping his own basket in front of Dean too as though he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.</p><p>Dean took a moment to wallow in the ownership of <em>all </em>the fries. Then, only slightly reluctantly, gave in to his conscience and pushed the basket he’d already half-decimated across the table in his mate’s direction before reaching for the full one.</p><p>Despite being relegated to ownership of only a half-basket of fries, Cas looked ridiculously touched by Dean’s concession, his eyes soft with pleasure at Dean’s contented munching.</p><p>Then the ribs arrived and all further fries wars were forgotten as four wolves slavered over ample meaty goodness.</p><p>xxx</p><p>As Dean was claiming ownership of every potato that had ever escaped Idaho only to end up in a fryer, Sam Winchester was sitting in the Ritz-Carlton in NYC being introduced to the culture of ‘Afternoon Tea’ by Anael Krushnic.</p><p>He wasn’t sure he was enjoying himself.</p><p>Strike that.</p><p>He was pretty damned sure he <em>wasn’t </em>enjoying himself.</p><p>He felt over large, awkward and <em>hungry.</em></p><p>Unlike Dean, Sam had never known <em>true </em>hunger.  He found himself as generally bemused and horrified by his brother’s appetite as the Volkrod were, though he never said a word when Dean was decimating whatever foodstuffs were placed in front of him.  As much as he spent as much of his life as possible choosing to forget their time at Wolfsbane, whenever Dean’s cheeks were hamster-fat with unchewed food, Sam was thrown back to memories of their childhood. PTSD-type memory flashes of how he himself had occasionally deigned to push a little unwanted meat in his literally starving brother’s direction.</p><p>His memories of his own childish, unthinking selfishness haunted him. ‘I was just a pup,’ he would tell himself. ‘I didn’t know. I didn’t understand.’</p><p>But he <em>should</em> have known. And he <em>should</em> have understood. And that shame burned him.</p><p>So as he sat in the Ritz he tried to concentrate on soaking up the ambience instead of protesting the fact that the tiny crustless sandwiches and minuscule petit fours barely filled his mouth let alone his stomach. He tried to ignore the fact he thought the idea of a ‘tea’ sommelier was ridiculous -particularly since a nice cold root beer would definitely hit the spot far better than the weird, odd perfume of pretentious Earl Gray tea served in bone China so fine he could barely fit his index finger through its delicate handle.</p><p>The scenario fitted Anna.</p><p>Her delicate fine-boned beauty was as pale and fragile-looking as the China. Her titian hair was as richly stunning as the Venetian art they had explored earlier at the Met, and her elegance fitted flawlessly within the environs of the hotel.</p><p>In comparison, despite his new clothes and his innate Alpha confidence, Sam felt like an uncomfortable fraud. An over large barely trained puppy more liable to piddle in the corner than pull off the illusion he was at ease in such a setting.</p><p>He’d felt confident in the art gallery. Knowledgeable. Inside his comfort zone. He’d even felt only slightly awkward in the clothes shops, his magpie greed for the rich fabrics and bright styles easily overcoming his unfamiliarity with the idea of buying what he liked rather than praying there might be anything in his size that was within his normal limited budget - he hated thralling for personal gain almost as much as Dean did - but in the Ritz he was such a fish out of water that he was floundering completely.</p><p>It wasn’t only that he was worried he was too big and clumsy to navigate an ‘afternoon tea’ without breakages.</p><p>He just hated the totally unnecessary ceremony of it all.</p><p>Sam was well aware that Dean would have laughed his head off in the same scenario. Dean wouldn’t follow Sam’s attempt to delicately nibble at the cakes and scones. He would shovel the tiny delicacies into his mouth like canapés, then expectantly demand the <em>real </em>food already.</p><p>Sam didn’t want to be an asshole.  He was hardly in a position to claim some higher moral ground. But the fact there were literally homeless guys rooting through the garbage bins in Central Park, just feet from the Ritz’s entrance, made the $100 sandwiches taste like sawdust anyway.</p><p>Not to mention the Tiffany incident.</p><p>Anna was still sulking - prettily, but obviously - at his refusal to thrall her some jewellery from the store when they’d passed it. He’d pointed out, just as Dean had told him a thousand times, that he couldn’t thrall a security camera and that they were within the protection zone of the NY brownstone.  The potential consequences of abusing his Alpha powers so close to a Pack House was unthinkable. The Volkrod had welcomed him ( with reserve, rather than open arms, but still...) and he wouldn’t reward them by bringing danger to their doors.</p><p>Particularly not for shiny glass baubles.</p><p>Anna. He was beginning to think that beautiful, vivacious Anna was trouble with a capital T.</p><p>Sadly, it was only the brain in his head that was listening.</p><p>Or maybe that was his wolf.</p><p>Because despite the way Sam’s whole body shivered with excitement whenever Anna ‘accidentally’ brushed his hands as she poured him tea and served him cakes and regaled him with humorous tales - even as her pretty eyes continued to glare as cold and angry as Tiffany crystal - his wolf was sulking far below the surface, a low grumble of discontented <em>hungry </em>fur and fangs.</p><p>xxx</p><p>They still had a two and a half hour drive to reach Columbus, so when Dean finally groaned and pushed his empty plate away from himself with a smirk of satisfaction, Cas suggested they got moving.</p><p>”Gotta hit the head first,” Dean said, doing dramatic jazz hands with his grease encrusted fingers and grinning from a face smeared with sauce. Napkins alone definitely weren’t going to be sufficient for clean up.</p><p>Benny rose to his feet to accompany him, only to be halted by Cas’s snarl of annoyance. “Settle the check and then call Gabriel for any news,” he snapped at the bodyguard. “I’ll accompany Dean.”</p><p>Dean opened his mouth, as though to object to the idea of being escorted to the washroom, then appeared to have second thoughts and simply turned on his heel and strode silently towards the diner.</p><p>Cas followed him, Viktor closely in persuit.</p><p>He thought to tell Viktor to back off, but knew there was no way the Beta would  allow the possibility of either of them being cornered in the washroom by strange Dobycha, so shrugged and allowed the bodyguard to come to guard the door from the other patrons.</p><p>Perhaps he should have sent Viktor first though, he decided, as he entered the washroom and found Dean standing at a sink next to a Dobycha as he was washing his face.  The suited stranger definitely had the air of an inoffensive, harried, sweaty travelling salesman rather than a threat. He was middle-aged, a little paunchy, and had a hairline that had been receding for years and was badly concealed with a comb-over.  </p><p>Which didn’t prevent Castiel from snarling, “Get out,” in a voice dripping with venom.</p><p>The guy’s eyes went wide, the color drained from his cheeks and he scurried out of the door without protest, only to yelp in terror as he crashed into Viktor who was standing outside with his shoulder holster in clear view like a hulking movie goon.</p><p>Cas met Dean’s eye roll in the mirror and smirked unapologetically.</p><p>Dean finished washing his face, rinsed his hands, shook them off lightly, then turned not to the dryer but towards Castiel, his green eyes haloed with gold.</p><p>”Big bad wolf,” he purred. </p><p>Cas’s heart thudded in his chest at the note of promise in Dean’s voice, and he backed up a step.</p><p>”We’ll be in Columbus in another couple of hours,” he pointed out weakly.</p><p>”Two and a <em>half </em>hours,” Dean corrected, prowling towards him.</p><p>”It’s a public washroom, Dean.”</p><p>”So? Think I can’t smell Viktor is guarding the door?”</p><p>”It’s... it’s not sanitary,” Cas mumbled.</p><p>Dean’s eyes widened with shock, “Did you really, honest-to-god say ‘it isn’t sanitary’?” he mocked, as he continued to stalk Cas accross the tiled floor.</p><p>Which, come to think of it, was pretty shiny and clean all things considered.</p><p>”First rule of diners, Cas, is don’t order from kitchens in places with filthy toilets. Hygiene levels are pretty consistent,” Dean lectured.  “Why’d ya think I told Benny to wash his hands before he ordered our food when we first got here?”</p><p>Cas blinked, throwing his mind back. “I... um... thought you had a phobia or something.”</p><p>”Says the guy who thinks <em>this </em>isn’t ‘sanitary’,” Dean snickered, as he grasped Cas’s shoulders and body slammed him back against the door. He hit the wood with a heavy thud.</p><p>”You okay, boss?” Viktor called out.</p><p>”Fuck off,” Dean snapped.</p><p>The scent of surprise, tinged with amusement, momentarily drowned out the lingering stench of bleach and ammonia in the washroom, and then they both heard Victor step away a discrete foot or two from the door.</p><p>”Now, where were we?” Dean asked, his breath hot in Cas’s face.</p><p>”Being unsanitary,” Cas said, though the words were no longer any form of complaint.</p><p>”Oh, yeah,” Dean smirked, sinking down Cas’s body, his water-splashed face sliding over the fabric of the Alpha’s tee to leave a wet smear, until he was kneeling on the - thankfully clean - tiles with his mouth pressing against Cas’s crotch.</p><p>His fingers were cool and damp, as they efficiently unbuttoned and unzipped Cas’s jeans, tugging with rough greed as they freed his cock from its fabric prison.</p><p>“Dunno how you even walk with this thing between your legs,” he said, with smug satisfaction at revealing his prize.</p><p>”Jeans are problematical,” Cas confessed, “but only when a certain <em>someone</em> won’t behave himself.”</p><p>Dean’s tongue slipped out and licked a long trail up the length of Cas’s cock. Then he looked up, through his lashes, his smirk wide and knowing, “That a complaint?”</p><p>”Just an observation,” Cas assured him hurriedly.</p><p>”Thought so,” Dean hummed, opening wide and sucking the head of Cas’s cock into his mouth.</p><p>Even without a knot, his thick shaft stretched Dean’s lips wide and the feel of that tight, wet, heat against his flesh sent a jolt of arousal through his entire spine. Without the solidity of the door against his shoulder blades, he would have staggered and fallen.</p><p>Dean hollowed his cheeks and sucked, the sensation drawing an involuntary moan out of Cas’s throat and his balls felt full and heavy, their weight pulsing against Dean’s cheeks.</p><p>His hips bucked and he drove himself a little deeper into Dean’s mouth, even as the Omega’s fingers wrapped around his hips and clawed into his buttocks, kneading and squeezing against the firm muscles of his glutes.</p><p>”This... this... we can’t,” he gasped. Knowing it was physically impossible for Dean to bring him to completion with his mouth without the very real possibility of a knot forming. Alphas were regrettably not ‘built’ for blowjobs. </p><p>Dean released him, his lips pulling back, just the tiniest scrape of teeth against his skin sending a further jolt of arousal through his entire body. “I know,” Dean admitted, a little regretfully. “But at least you’re nice and wet now.” He rose gracefully to his feet, unbuttoning his own jeans even as he kicked off his trainers. He shimmied out of the denim with shameless grace, to reveal not boxers but a pair of tight, silk panties.</p><p>Cas’s eyes bulged at the sight of Dean’s fat cock pressing angrily against its pink lacy prison. ”What? Where?” he spluttered, then realising the most likely explanation was Dean had added some personal shopping to Benny and Viktor’s list in St Louis - no wonder the two Betas had looked so horrified - and he  decided it was best not to follow that thought any further.  </p><p>It was the turn of Cas’s knees to hit the tiles as, totally uncaring of ‘sanitation’ he dropped until his face was buried in the soft fabric, his tongue licking kisses against Dean’s hot flesh. He could smell the Omega’s arousal, the wet promise of his juices trickle down his inner thighs, and his own cock reared to slap his stomach as he laved at the panties, nibbling and chewing his way through the delicate material to the treasure within. </p><p>Deans hands were clutching at his shoulders, eyes half-closed, his head tilted back in a moan of pleasure, as Cas thanked his ancestors for the Alpha strength that allowed him to rise to his feet in a flowing, powerful wave even as his teeth shredded the last of the lace from Dean’s crotch.</p><p>It wasn’t effortless to lift Dean up. The omega was too tall and heavy for that. But it wasn’t impossible either, his muscles eagerly compensating for the strain and when Dean wrapped his legs around his waist and his arms around Cas’s neck, it was possible to brace his shoulders against the door and use his hands to hold Dean’s buttocks as he guided him onto his cock.</p><p>And then there was nothing except the loud sound of his body banging against the door, rocking it in its frame as Dean rode him.</p><p>It was the strength of Dean’s core then that made their impossible position work. It was Dean whose hips and pelvis drove their coupling, while Cas could only concentrate on holding his weight, until it became impossible to avoid hitting the back of his head on the door rather than just his shoulders.</p><p>He then learned it was almost impossible to walk, carrying a full grown Dean, with his jeans around his ankles, and Dean’s flesh sliding over his cock, but somehow he managed to stagger to the washbasins and ease Dean’s buttocks down onto the counter.  Then, bracing one hand against the mirror on the wall, he took over control of their coupling, his hips driving into his mate, his free hand squeezing and sliding over Dean’s cock, dragging breathy moans and cries out of the Omega’s throat until they both came in a messy, mutual explosion.</p><p>He then, of course, had twenty minutes of being locked inside Dean’s heat to contemplate the fact they would both have to do the walk of shame through the crowded diner because he doubted <em>anyone </em>had failed to work out what all the commotion had been.</p><p>Thank god for Viktor. His silent glower was probably the only reason the owners hadn’t called the cops on them.</p><p>”This was crazy. Stupid. Irresponsible,” he muttered, even as he traced a line of kisses down Dean’s sweat drenched neck.</p><p>”I know,” Dean agreed smugly.</p><p>Unapologetically.</p><p>And, in that moment, Cas wished their ‘road-trip’ could last forever.  In less than a day they would be back in Poughkeepsie, forced to deal with the real world again.</p><p>These two final days might be the last time they had the opportunity to be so stupid and reckless.</p><p>And for all he wanted to tell himself that returning to his duty was a good thing, the knowledge of the ‘responsibility’ that waited for them tasted like bitterness.</p><p>”I love you,” he said.</p><p>And yet again, Dean said “I know.”</p><p>Before adding, “And you owe me new lingerie, you fucker.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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